


Waiting for You

by aspenlift



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: 2016 US Presidential Election, Angst, Cheating, F/F, Femslash, Hillary Clinton - Freeform, Jared kushner - Freeform, Political Campaigns, Politics, Smut, True Love, break up and then make up, donald trump - Freeform, secret romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspenlift/pseuds/aspenlift
Summary: Ivanka Trump and Chelsea Clinton have been in love for years but their hectic personal and professional lives have always interfered with truly being together. Now with their parents facing off in the biggest U.S. presidential election in history, they struggle to find a way to one another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set a few months out from the U.S. election day (Nov. 8). This is entirely a work of RPF fiction.

Ivanka leaned back against the cool leather of the car seat and closed her eyes. She was tired, that much was obvious. She’d just finished speaking at a rally for her father's campaign in Canton, Ohio, and like most endeavors associated with the Trump presidential campaign, it left her exhausted. She actually never wanted to speak at the event, and she resisted saying yes to the request, but she knew if she refused this late in the cycle she would catch heat from the media, the Trump campaign and especially her father himself.

She looked out the tinted windows of the town car she was sitting in to see photographers, cameramen and reporters pushed against the media line like hungry jaguars hoping to catch any additional drama they could add to their stories. She truly wished this could be over, that Nov. 8 would arrive and her father would finally lose. If she had it her way he would have never run in the first place. Because win or lose, the Trump brand was forever tarnished. What was once thought of as a symbol of wealth and business savvy was now associated with racism, sexual abuse, nativism, bigotry and everything else imaginable. And as the Executive Vice President of Development & Acquisitions at the Trump Organization, that was her only real concern: the aftermath of the shitshow of her father’s campaign. She was going to spend years doing damage control because of this campaign.

“To the hotel, Mrs. Trump?” her driver George asked, looking through the car’s partition via his rearview mirror. 

“No, the airport,” she said. _Get me out this god forsaken town._

And with that, the car began driving slowly, making its way through the throng of onlookers and down the street.

“Jeff Briggs, the reporter from the _Daily Beast_ , is wanting to ask you a few questions about the staff firings,” her assistant Maggie asked. “Should we give him something?”

“No,” Ivanka said without a moment of thought. “Just coordinate a statement with whatever the campaign is putting out.”

“He’s been good to us in the past," Maggie pressed. "This could lead to a nice fluff piece closer to election day.”

Ivanka looked over at Maggie, young and over-eager, but also incredibly smart and talented. She had hired the young woman because she saw a little of herself in her and the girl had done a good job of helping her on the trail thus far, but she still had a lot to learn about the business.

“I’m not sure any amount of fluff is going to help,” Ivanka said. “There’s no point in throwing a dog a bone when we won’t get one back.”

Maggie nodded and went back to typing a message on her phone while straddling her iPad in her lap.

Ivanka was more stressed than she needed to be given how the day was going. The speech had gone well and she would get decent media coverage for it, yet that wasn’t what was causing her anxiety. It was the woman who had been on her mind each day for the last four years, the woman she was on the verge of losing.

Feeling a soft vibration on her lap, Ivanka looked down at her phone to see a text message. It was from Chelsea Clinton.

She swallowed. This was the first time Chelsea had contacted her in more than a week. That’s how long it had been since they argued in Chelsea’s SoHo apartment, the one she used when she and Ivanka needed to get away. This argument was different than any they'd ever had, the attacks they launched at each other more personal and visceral than ever. Ivanka left the building that night frustrated, hurt and most of all, regretful. Truth be told, she didn’t think she would hear back from Chelsea for a while, if ever.

She'd never been so happy to be proven wrong.  

_Will you be in New York tonight?_ The text from the former Secretary of State’s daughter read. 

Ivanka moved her fingers to craft a response but stopped before pressing any key. She turned and looked out the car window, the scene now a semi-busy highway opening up to a great blue sky, and thought back to the last time she and Chelsea were together.

* * *

Getting off the empty industrial elevator, Ivanka pressed the buzzer beside the maroon apartment door and breathed easily as she waited for Chelsea to answer. Ivanka felt like a teenager with all the excitement running through her body. They had been attempting to meet up for more than a month. That’s how long it had been since they last saw each other. Until tonight, they were never able to make their schedules align. The thought of finally seeing Chelsea had Ivanka wired for sound and she could barely contain it.

Chelsea answered the door wearing a loose-fitting gray dress. She flashed her trademark toothy smile as her eyes met Ivanka’s.

“Why hello there,” Chelsea said easily.

Ivanka smiled and crossed the threshold of the door. She wrapped her arms around Chelsea’s waist and kissed her. It was meant to be a quick peck on the lips, a “I’m so happy to see you after all this time” kiss, but once their lips met, Ivanka forgot about all of that and pressed her mouth fully onto Chelsea’s. Chelsea gave in, parting her mouth and letting Ivanka’s tongue enter. They stood there near the entrance of Chelsea’s apartment, kissing passionately before they had to stop for air.

Chelsea looked into Ivanka’s eyes and reached to softly cup her face. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.

Ivanka turned her head slightly and kissed Chelsea’s palm on her cheek. “I’ve missed you, too."

And longer than when they shared their kiss, they stood there staring into each others eyes. The whole city seemed to fall quiet as they shared this moment of oft-delayed intimacy.

They eventually pulled apart and Chelsea made her way to the kitchen. “What excuse did you use to get away?” she asked, stopping at the counter and pouring Ivanka a glass of wine.

“None, actually,” Ivanka said, taking off her coat and following Chelsea into the kitchen. “I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. There was no one to tell anyway. Everyone is on the trail.”

“That is one good thing about this election,” Chelsea said handing Ivanka the glass. “Everyone is always away.” 

“And yet, we’ve seen each other less than before the campaign started,” Ivanka replied, a hint of somber in her voice.

Chelsea opened her mouth to respond when her cellphone began rang. She looked at the caller ID and back at Ivanka. “I’m so sorry, but I have to take this,” she said.

Ivanka nodded and walked to the couch, sipping slowly on the red wine. Chelsea stood with her back facing her and listened intently to the person on the other line.

“We have to play this smart,” Ivanka heard her say. “Get Steven and his team on it—and keep Sarah in the loop.” 

She put the phone down and turned to look at Ivanka. Ivanka didn’t want to ask what the call was about. Besides, she already knew what it was that the Clinton campaign had just found out. She herself had got the news when she was entering Chelsea’s building.

“That will be the first and last call I take tonight,” Chelsea said, walking over to Ivanka and grabbing her hand. “It’s just…” 

“You don’t have to explain,” Ivanka said lightly. “I already knew.”

Chelsea smiled. “And you didn’t give me a tip?”

Ivanka laughed. “I didn’t come here to talk about the race, Chelsea—and you’re not with me for tips.”

“You’re right,” Chelsea said, moving in closer. “I’m with you for that smile and that beautiful mind…” She raised her hand and brushed a strand of Ivanka’s hair to the side. “And every bit of joy you bring me." 

They were standing so close to each other Ivanka could feel Chelsea’s steady breathing. 

“Anything else?” Ivanka asked, her voice a whisper. 

“Oh, lots of things,” Chelsea said, her voice now low and husky. “But you can show me better than I can tell you.”

Ivanka smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Let me show then,” she whispered into Chelsea’s mouth. 

Ivanka had been in Chelsea’s secret apartment many times. She often wondered if Chelsea bought it just for them to meet in. Early on, it proved difficult to find places to be alone. Hotels always felt lonely and empty, plus Ivanka had a weird relationship with hotels since she’s spent so much of her life in Trump hotels. Still, they never talked about getting a place where they could meet up at, but a few months after getting together Chelsea showed her this spacious loft apartment and it had been their meeting spot ever since. 

How many times had they made love in this space? Ivanka had lost count. She could remember each time, though. Because each time was both new and familiar. She never grew tired of she and Chelsea's bodies becoming one.

They stood near the edge of the bed kissing, both of their hands making their way around the others body.

“I didn’t know when would be the next time I saw you alone,” Ivanka said breaking the kiss.

“We always make a way,” Chelsea said and pushed their mouths back together to finish it.

Ivanka lifted Chelsea’s dress slightly, the feeling of warm skin fell immediately under hands.

As she grabbed a handful of Chelsea’s ass, she began kissing her neck, stopping to suck gently on her collarbone. Chelsea breathed in deep and exhaled, a low moan escaping her mouth.

Ivanka continued to rub the skin under Chelsea’s dress, feeling her hips and abdomen underneath. She soon felt the lace of Chelsea’s panties. She gently rubbed her fingers against the material and felt her heartbeat increase at the thought of ripping them off.

“Take it off,” Chelsea breathed and Ivanka did as she was told, pulling the zipper of the dress down in one full motion. She watched as Chelsea’s dress fell to the floor leaving her in a matching bra and panty set. It was Ivanka’s turn to breath in deeply as she saw her lover in front of her. She never forgot how Chelsea looked. She never forgot the look in her blue eyes, now darkened with lust, each time they made love. 

“Your turn,” Chelsea said with a smile. And Ivanka felt Chelsea hands move against her body as she found the zipper of her skirt. Her hands moved quickly as she unbuttoned the satin top Ivanka wore. Seconds later Ivanka stood in the same amount of clothing as the woman in front of her.

Chelsea gently pushed Ivanka on the bed and climbed on top of her, straddling her hips. She reached down and kissed Ivanka deeply, desperately and hungrily. Whether it was said aloud or not, they both knew these opportunities were too few and far between. There was both time to make up for and time to savor. 

Ivanka hands moved to Chelsea’s back and unhooked her bra. She tossed the laced material on the floor as her hands replaced where the bra cups were. Chelsea’s mouth was all over her: neck, chest, stomach and soon between her legs. Moving slowly for the first time all night, she placed soft kisses on Ivanka’s inner thighs.

Ivanka’s legs shook as she felt Chelsea make her way up and down them. She could feel the pool of arousal between her legs, wetting her panties. Chelsea moved her panty line away and rubbed her hand gently across Ivanka's sex and Ivanka shivered at the tease. Not wasting any time, Chelsea pulled her panties all the way down and begin to lick.

“Chels…” Ivanka moaned, her mouth both wet and dry at the same time, her heart beating both slow and fast in response to the sensation.

Chelsea’s placed her mouth fully onto Ivanka's sex and begin to eat her. Ivanka moaned loudly, taking full advantage of being on the top level of the apartment building and away from prying ears. She put her hand on Chelsea’s head and guided it around, not that the blonde needed much guidance. Four years of fucking Ivanka had made Chelsea an expert on her lovers body. She knew where to apply pressure and where to be gentle. Ivanka’s loud moans were always the ultimate sign of a job well done. 

Ivanka was close to coming and when Chelsea’s tongue flicked gently against her clit, she lost any ounce of control she had as her body shook with a powerful orgasm.

Chelsea crawled up her body and gave her a wet kiss. Ivanka tasted herself on her lovers mouth.

“You’re amazing,” Ivanka said, panting slightly and looking up at Chelsea face illuminated in the dark light. 

“I love you,” Chelsea whispered.

“I love you too,” Ivanka said. “Now, let me show you how much.”

She rolled Chelsea onto her back and moved her hands between her thighs with every intent on returning the favor. 

* * *

_Yes_. Ivanka typed on her phone’s keyboard.

She wanted to add more, ask Chelsea to forgive her, but that all seemed like too much at the moment. She pressed send and watched as her text shot off into cyberspace.

She saw the gray bubbles from Chelsea’s iPhone pop up immediately and she waited eagerly for her response.  

Before she received Chelsea’s message, though, the text thread was interrupted by the big blocked words “Donald Trump” flashing on her phone screen. She rolled her eyes and pressed the green button on the screen to answer.

“Hello?” 

“That was terrific. Big! Way to keep the momentum going!” Donald said, his voice coming through the phone speaker.

“Thank you, Dad. I hope it helps—” 

“Helps? We’re going to dominate!” he replied, his voice raising slightly. “This is just adding to our lead. Keep this up and Hillary won’t know what hit her.”

There are some people who think her father doesn’t talk like he tweets, but those people are wrong. 

“Yes, she won’t,” Ivanka said, going with the conversation. 

She chuckled to herself. Her father was the reason she and Chelsea even started off as friends. Her entire life her father pushed the importance of connections to her and her siblings. “Making the sale,” as he would put it. Their relationship with the Clinton’s was one of the many big name connections he had made when she was a child. With she and Chelsea being close in age and living in the same city, they saw each other often. They didn’t truly become friends until they were in their 20’s, when they were both out of college and starting their careers.

She remembered the first time they ever hung out. It was after a fundraising party for the Clinton Foundation. The crowd was older, wealthy white men and while they both had plenty of experience talking to people liked that, they found their way to each other that night. They spent the evening drinking wine and sharing stories. For the first time, Ivanka felt like saw the real Chelsea Clinton that night. Before that night, Chelsea always kept her guard up, talked and moved in a way that shown there was something underneath her exterior. Ivanka noticed it because it was the same thing she did. But that night, both of their guards came down and while they knew it was the start of a true friendship, they would never expect what it would eventually lead to.

* * *

_Can you meet? At my place?_ _I want to talk about last week._

Ivanka read the message over and over again.

_Yes, I can._ She wrote. She saw her fingers continue to type out: _I’m sorry, Chelsea. Please forgive me._

She erased the message and typed. _Let’s plan for 10?_

Immediately after.  _That works. See you then_.

She hated how formal their exchange was, how it lacked any of the feeling their relationship—or however you could describe what it was—had. She wondered what Chelsea wanted to talk about? She wondered if their relationship had become too much and she was ready to end it. The campaign was making everything feel like too much. The fight aside, it had been increasingly difficult to see each other. Every plan to meet was a risk. Even being in the same city at the same time could lead to speculation from the press. No amount of information, useless as it may be, was lost in this election. She once again yearned for the election date to get here.

"We've arrived, Mrs. Trump," George said as he pulled into the lot. "Your plane is awaiting you."

* * *

They had their first kiss in Paris. Ivanka had planned a trip to the city in 2012 and invited Chelsea. They both had been to Paris multiple times but never with the other. With Chelsea with her, it felt like she was seeing the city for the first time again. They spent their days visiting high-end shops, eating at restaurants they wanted the other to try and visiting landmarks like tourists. Chelsea wanted to go to every library in the city and Ivanka happily obliged her. It was one of the first times Ivanka was ever able to travel without an agenda. At the time, it all felt like a dream. Each moment was perfect.

On their last night in the city, Chelsea visited her room and they sat on the room’s balcony and talked.

Secretly, Ivanka always thought Chelsea one of the most beautiful women she ever saw and in the light of the balcony she looked simply divine. Her white skin lit brightly like milk in a clear glass.

“I never thought there'd be a day where I say I never wanted to go back to the U.S., but today is that day,” Chelsea said.

“You better not let your mother hear that,” Ivanka said and Chelsea chuckled lightly.

“She would be extremely disappointed,” Chelsea said and she turned to Ivanka, a different kind of look in her eye.

Chelsea walked over to her and without word kissed her. Ivanka was taken back at first, unsure if what was happening was real, but once she came to and realized the kiss was very much real, she gave into it. She felt the world stop for the moments their body melted into one another’s.  
  
During the whole trip, and even before the trip, she had felt something for Chelsea, something that went deeper than the friendship. The kiss on the balcony that night confirmed Chelsea had the same feeling. There are moments she knew she would never forget and her first kiss with Chelsea was one. Even now, years later, she could never forget the feel of Chelsea’s mouth on hers that night. She didn’t think she ever would.

* * *

Ivanka landed back in New York City within the hour, her private jet being especially useful at this moment in her life. After calling to check-in with family and colleagues, she made her way back to her home, the thought of seeing Chelsea still seared to her mind.

The first year of their romance was difficult. They were always seeking out pockets of time when they could see one another, when they could be together. They were both always nervous about the thought of being discovered, the political and personal ramifications if any news about their relationship They eventually found a schedule that worked, one where they could see each other a couple of times a week alone and away from the world. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even ideal, but for a couple of years it worked for them. They made it work.

Ivanka looked at the time. It was only 8 p.m. She wished she would have suggested meeting sooner. She didn’t want to wait to see Chelsea any longer than she needed to.

She tried to distract herself by sitting down and answering emails but she couldn’t think about anything other than Chelsea. She answered one email and closed her laptop screen.

She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of green tea and stood there drinking it, her mind going back to the fight she and Chelsea had and the last time they spoke to each other.

* * *

Chelsea’s head was on her chest as they laid in a post-sex haze in bed. They were both silent, absorbing the moment, letting their heartbeats settle down to a normal pace after giving each other multiple climaxes.

The silence was broken by the soft chime of Chelsea’s phone ringing on the nightstand next to her. Chelsea let out a groan as she lifted her body up and out of the bed.

“I thought there was no more phone calls?” Ivanka asked, feeling cool air replace where Chelsea’s head had been on her chest.

She was trying to not sound that annoyed. Their time was limited. Who knew when they would be able to see each other after this.

“I have to answer this,” Chelsea said. “You know what it’s about.”

Ivanka waited impatiently as Chelsea took the call which was going on far longer than she would have liked. After about 10 minutes, Chelsea hung up and made her way back to bed, but Ivanka was already getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” Chelsea asked. "Why are you getting dressed?"

“I’m going for a walk, I need some air,” Ivanka said quietly, zipping up her skirt.

“What’s wrong?”

“When was the last time we were together?” Ivanka asked turning to face Chelsea.

“What?” Chelsea asked, confused. "Uh, in August. Why?”

“In August,” Ivanka said. “August! That was a month and a half ago. We never see each other and you’re taking calls tonight?”

“Ivanka, the campaign—“

“Yes, yes, the campaign," she said. "It’s always the campaign. It’s always your mother.”

“Do not bring my mother into this,” Chelsea said cooly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has _everything_ to do with this! She's the reason we're even having this conversation."

“And what about your father?” Chelsea bit out. "If he wasn’t so incompetent, I wouldn’t have to answer calls in the dead of the night.”

Ivanka stared at her. “You’re right. If my father was a career politician, you wouldn’t have to answer calls, but he’s not.”

Chelsea looked hurt by the comment. “Maybe if your father was a career politician, we wouldn’t have to be running around this city like it’s the 50’s. Or maybe that’s part of the ‘Make America Great Again’ schtick.”

Ivanka stared. How could Chelsea use her father’s rhetoric against her, as if she subscribed to the same beliefs? As if she didn't know Ivanka and what she truly believed in. She didn’t know what to say, so she got up and walked out the room. Chelsea didn’t call after her.

* * *

Chelsea sat nervously on her couch trying to think of anything but Ivanka coming over. When that didn’t work, she stood up and opened the sliding door leading to her balcony. The cool air of New York night hit her face and she walked to the banister and looked towards skyline. The scene made her think about she and Ivanka’s trip to Paris and the night they had their first kiss. She would give up a lot of things to go back to that night.

Chelsea never ruled out ever falling for a girl, and she did once in college, but she would have never thought she would fall for Ivanka Trump, the domineering queen of the Trump estate. Yet, she did. And she fell hard. Some days it took her by surprise how strongly she felt about the woman.

They rarely talked about their relationship outside of their meet-ups, they never dared to dream of what something bigger could look like. As much as they loved each other, they loved their lives more. Being together in the public eye would change everything drastically, so they stuck to enjoying the privacy of one another. It was in moments like this when she wished that wasn't the case. The entire week they didn't talk, she had needed someone she could talk to about their fight but had no one.

She and Ivanka both grew up hearing they could have it all—successful careers, a high earning income, a family—but they both were learning it was difficult to put all that preaching into practice. She always found it funny the one thing they never heard mentioned in the listings of things they could have was true love. But she and Ivanka had found it in one another and she didn’t want to let it go. If they could truly have it all, they could have love too.

Chelsea heard a knock at the door.

“I’m glad you could make it,” she said when she opened it up to see Ivanka, beautiful and vibrant as ever.

“Me too,” Ivanka said. “It had never been easier to schedule a meeting for the two of us."

The comment elicited a laugh from Chelsea, breaking the rather tense mood, but after her chuckle ended, silence filled the room. She didn't know what to say, how to say anything.

“Ivanka…” Chelsea began and felt her voice trail off.

Ivanka looked at her from where she stood, there may as well been a million miles between them.

“I’m sorry,” Chelsea said, finally. “What I said was wrong and out of line and I should’ve never brought it up.”

Ivanka stood there for a few beats and then took a step forward. “We both were wrong. I regret everything I said that night. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Chelsea gave her a weak smile. She wanted desperately to walk over and kiss Ivanka but resisted.

“We can’t change our family’s or their ambitions any more than we can change our own,” Chelsea said. “But I don’t want to lose you because of it.”

Ivanka could see the tears in her eyes, knew they took on more meaning because Chelsea didn't cry easily.

“I don’t know want to lose you either,” Ivanka said. “I’ve lived my entire life hiding who I was. With you, I can be myself. That's too precious to willingly give up.”

Chelsea gave a soft smile, her slightly raised cheeks making the tears on her face shine in the light.

“I-I don’t know how we can make this work against everything else going on, but I want to try, Ivanka,” Chelsea said, her face determined as ever. "I want to try."

“I want to try too," Ivanka said. "I love you."

Fresh tears fell down Chelsea’s face. Ivanka could feel them welling up in her eyes too.

Chelsea reached in and gave Ivanka a kiss. She was grateful to receive it and return it. Just this morning she didn’t know if she would ever feel Chelsea’s lips against her own again.

Chelsea broke the kiss and leaned in gently against Ivanka. Ivanka rubbed Chelsea’s hair and thought about how close she was to losing her.

“When we’re together, the campaign can’t come up,” Chelsea said.

Ivanka nodded.

“And no matter what happens out there, it doesn’t come between us,” Chelsea continued.

Ivanka nodded again.

“And I promise not to ever think anything your father does reflect you,” she said looking up at Ivanka.

“I promise the same with your mother,” Ivanka said.

“So what do we do now?” Chelsea asked, looking up at her.

“Now we make good on those promises,” Ivanka said smiling. “And work on what we want for a change.”

Chelsea smiled. She couldn’t think of a better way forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was sparked by an article I read a few months ago about how Ivanka was working to salvage her friendship with Chelsea Clinton despite the negative rhetoric of the campaign. It got me thinking about a secret romance between her and Chelsea, which led to this fic. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald Trump has won the presidency, shocking everyone including Ivanka. Now she and Chelsea aren’t sure how their relationship will continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote the first chapter I originally intended for it to be a one-shot, but for some reason I have not been able to get these two out of my mind, so I’m going to keep it going. Enjoy!

It was a little past 3 a.m. and the now cramped conference room was exultant. Ivanka stood near the center of the room staring at the TV screen, her expression a mixture of disbelief and shock.

It was happening.

He was going to win.

If she had not been there in the moment and seeing it for herself, she wouldn't have believed it. But she was there and it was happening and she honestly didn't know what to do or think. She swallowed, trying to wet her now dried mouth, and looked at her phone. So many text messages, alerts and email notifications, but none from the person who mattered most, Chelsea.

20 minutes later, CNN called the race. Donald J. Trump had defeated Hillary Clinton to become the 45th President of the United States. The noise in the downtown Manhattan location of the Trump Tower was deafening. And the room she was standing in was sure to explode from the sweat, yelling and energy being combined together in that moment. Someone brought party streamers out and threw them in the air. A rainbow of colors fell from the ceiling, illustrating the atmosphere of the room.

She looked around at the people in the room, all of them elite members of the campaign, and how happy they were. Had there ever been a time where how she was feeling was so stark from the environment she was in?

Not sure what to do next, she turned towards her sister Tiffany, who was crying, and hugged her.

“I...I…” Tiffany said trying to form a sentence. Ivanka nodded and pulled in closer, they both knowing what she was attempting to say.

She looked up for her husband, Jared Kushner, and saw he was near the front of the room next to her father, always next to her father, a huge smile on his face as he gripped the shoulders of the now president-elect. And there was her father, as massive and dominating as ever. He stood there, astonishment on his face too, but still talking and moving his head as the crowd of men surrounding him grew.

The look changed quickly, though, as he raised his hands in the air in an attempt to quiet the room.

“The people have spoken! I am the president now!” he said thunderously. “This has been a long battle, but I won. I won! They have seen nothing yet! I won't forget the folks here tonight. I won't forget you or loyalty.”

“Now somebody write the damn acceptance speech!” Jared roared and more laughter erupted.

Ivanka began making her way to the crowd at the top of the room, pushing past all of the suits that were blocking her path.

Jared turned and his smile grew even wider when he saw his wife approaching him. “Ivanka. Honey. We did it.” He grabbed her face and pulled her into a hard kiss. When it broke she tried her hardest, she didn’t think she ever tried so hard, to not grimace and return his smile.   

“Yes, we did,” she said over the cheering.

“Listen, we have to go, honey, but this is incredible. Everything is about to change. Everything.” And with that he kissed her again on the mouth and turned to follow Trump out of the room, expecting her to follow.

“Jared, I’ll be there in a moment," she yelled out. "I have to make a call.”

Not paying attention to what she said, he nodded and walked away.

She left the room, cool air from the lobby hitting her sweating face, and tried to find somewhere there would be quiet. Finding an empty bathroom, she locked herself in a stall and pressed Chelsea’s name on the touch screen.

Ringing. Ringing. More ringing. And then a brief silence before the voicemail recording begin. Ivanka ended the call before the recording was complete and sighed. Chelsea had to be devastated. She had invested so much into her mother’s campaign, working tirelessly behind the scenes since day one. She didn’t hold an official title but she played as big of a role as anyone. More than anything, Ivanka knew she would be hurting for her mother, whom she loved more than life itself and had once again lost after coming so close to the presidency.

It was heartbreaking and Ivanka hated being someone who had been actively complicit in the pain Chelsea was now experiencing.

There was a knock on the bathroom stall door and Ivanka opened it to see a middle-aged campaign worker standing in front of her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said when she saw Ivanka open the door. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s fine,” Ivanka said stepping out of the stall. “You can have it. I’m not using it.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, almost surprised by how she was being treated. “And um, congratulations. I can’t wait for America to become great again.”

Ivanka turned around and stared at the woman. It was in that moment that it truly hit her father was now the president-elect of the United States of America and everything in her life and in her relationship with Chelsea would never be the same again. The weight of the realization was strong enough to nearly knock her off her feet.

“Mrs. Trump, are you alright?” the lady said leaving the entryway of the stall to walk to Ivanka.

“Yes, yes,” Ivanka said, standing straight. “Just a little tired, it’s been a long day.”

She quickly turned to leave the bathroom, wishing she could find somewhere, anywhere, to be alone for a minute and cry.

* * *

The next two days were a blur. Politicians everywhere. Media everywhere. Staff everywhere. It was twice as worse than it ever was on the campaign trail.

Ivanka hardly had a moment to herself. Her father requested that she and Jared be by his side at all times as he took on becoming the most famous and powerful man in the world and they dutifully obeyed. She had not watched the news except for Hillary's concession speech the morning following the election. She watched Chelsea accompany her mother onto the stage. She saw the barely visible circles under her eyes and knew Chelsea had gotten little sleep. Ivanka wished desperately to be able to reach through the television and touch her lovers face.

She'd tried calling Chelsea multiple times since the results were announced but got no answer. She sent countless messages asking how she was doing, saying she was sorry this had happened, telling her she loved her. But none of the messages were returned and soon Ivanka’s iMessage thread to Chelsea was covered in blue text bubbles.

On the third day, Ivanka was frustrated. She was in her and Jared's penthouse suite of the Trump Tower and had finally gotten a moment to herself after days strategy meetings and conference calls. She attempted to call Chelsea again but was hit with the voicemail recording she now knew by heart:

_Hello. This is Chelsea Clinton. I apologize for missing your call. Please leave your name and a message and I will return it at my earliest convenience._

“Chelsea,” Ivanka said, her lovers name coming out of her mouth more harshly than she intended. “I know you’re hurting. I’m hurting too—but call me. I need to talk to you.”

She hung up angrily, paced across the room and immediately felt bad. What was she doing? Hillary Clinton had lost and Chelsea had lost by association. To add insult to injury, Hillary lost against someone who got into politics as a hobby less than two years ago. Ivanka couldn’t imagine the grief the Clintons were experiencing. Instead of giving Chelsea her space, she had been overbearing by blowing her phone up. How selfish of her. Still, she and Chelsea were together. They were intimate and in love. Didn’t that warrant a check-in to at least _say_ she needed time and space?

Ivanka called her again and left another message. “I’m sorry for my last message, Chels,” she said, her voice soft and even. “I’m worried about you. I miss you. I hope you and your family are okay. Please call whenever you are ready.”

Feeling better with how that message sounded, she ended the voicemail and sat on the couch. She had 20 minutes before an in-person meeting with the Japanese Prime Minister her father wanted her on. He always valued she and Jared’s feedback but now he seemed desperate for it.

Publicly, he'd told the media she and Jared would retain their jobs with the Trump Organization but behind closed doors he told them he wanted them in as unofficial advisers to the president. Jared, already the unofficial head of his transition team, relished in the news, but Ivanka wasn’t sure how she felt. On one hand, she thought it good to be able to influence him so he wouldn’t make terrible decisions that would truly send the country spiraling, but on the other, she didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this. Not a career in politics, a role in the Trump administration, or to be working so close her husband.

Yet this had been her life up to this point, doing everything her father asked her to do instead of the things she wanted to do. Always doing things “for the family,” as her father constantly framed it. Always for the Trump empire. She couldn’t lie. Being a Trump had given her a life of privilege, wealth and excess and she enjoyed it, but she always wondered what she was losing in return. In the days following the election, she couldn’t help but wonder if being a Trump had lost her the person she loved the most.

“Have it to me by 4 p.m. Don’t drop this, Alexander,” Jared said walking into the apartment and hanging up the phone.

“Hi,” Ivanka said rather weakly as she saw her husband come into the living room area.

“Hey, honey,” he said, his eyes still on his phone. “Are you ready for this meeting with Shinzō.”

 _No,_ she thought. “Yes,” she said.

She looked up at her husband and his boyish face that belied his age. Her father’s favorite son who wasn’t truly his own. The steadying hand throughout the campaign. The lone constant in an ever-shifting organization chart of friends and advisers. The Harvard man her father pushed on her even though she didn’t like really like the boy at the time and sometimes even now.

He may be the happiest out of everyone, her father included, by the Trump presidential win. It was for that reason Ivanka was starting to become nervous around him.

When her father launched his election bid, it had been all hands on deck, everyone doing their part when needed. While Ivanka attempted to do the minimum whilst not drawing any questions, Jared began going above and beyond, soon earning the respect of everyone in the Trump inner circle. Even when things weren’t looking great for the campaign—a constant occurrence over the past year—he remained steadfast and determined. She never knew his endgame in all of this and as they got further along into the election, he started communicating with her less and less.

He had always been ambitious, always cunning, but his deep involvement in the campaign and sudden staunch belief in her father's policies made her apprehensive. He wasn’t the man she had married all those years ago and even back when her father's presidential aspirations were comical at best, she always knew she could laugh about it with her left-leaning husband of convenience. But now she hardly recognized him.

His assertion on election night that everything was about to change had been resting in the back of her head too. She still didn’t know what it meant and the sudden influx of power was making everyone around her act differently.

“What’s wrong?” he asked finally looking up at her. It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“I don't know,” she said. “These last few days have been…”

“They’ve been great,” he said putting his phone down and walking over to her. “Honey. We’re building a foundation.”

“A foundation for what?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“For the most lasting legacy in American history,” he said looking into her eyes.

She stared back. They were both the children of billionaire real-estate investors. They had enough wealth for generations. What more was there to add to their legacy?

He laughed when she asked him. “Ivanka, it’s more than money. It’s about lasting power. But we can talk more about that later, let’s head downstairs for the meeting.

She didn’t say anything. His words still sitting with her. Instead, she nodded and stood up from the couch and reached for her purse. It was then that she heard her phone ring and saw Chelsea's name flash on the screen.

Her heart skipped a beat and she reached to answer.

“Ivanka,” Jared said from the door. “We have to go. This is the Prime Minister of Japan we’re talking about. The trade ramifications are major. You know how Japanese businessman are.”

“Yes, I—”

“Ivanka,” he said, his tone more forceful than before.

She nodded her head and silenced the phone as she saw Chelsea’s name disappear from the screen.

“Let’s go,” she said, putting the phone in her purse.

* * *

The meeting lasted for four and a half hours. She sat through it anxiously wondering what Chelsea was going to say to her, how she was feeling. She hadn’t realized how desperately she wanted to speak to her until she got the opportunity to do so and then missed it. She wondered if there was a chance they could see each other that night and her skin tingled at the thought of feeling Chelsea against her.

Much to Ivanka's annoyance, Jared wanted to have a debrief session after the meeting with senior members of the staff to gauge how they thought the talk with the Prime Minster had gone. She sat through it impatiently, her phone burning a hole in her purse. Three days post-election and she was already wondering how she was going to make it through these four years.

Once the debrief session was over, Ivanka reached for her phone only to be disappointed when she saw Chelsea did not leave a message or send a text.

Ivanka ran back to her apartment and, once behind closed doors, called Chelsea again. Expecting it to go to voicemail again, she almost couldn’t believe it when the blonde answered.

“Hello?” Chelsea asked.

“Chelsea,” Ivanka breathed into the receiver. “How are you?”

“I’m making it,” Chelsea said, her voice low and reserved. “It’s been extremely difficult, however.”

“I’m sure,” Ivanka said, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I still can’t believe this happened. I’m stunned, really.”

“You and everyone on this side of the aisle.”

Ivanka didn't think she ever heard her sound so desolate. Chelsea had always been a well of undefeated optimism. It was one of the things Ivanka loved about her the most. With Chelsea, there was nothing that could not be overcome or accomplished. Yet this person Ivanka was talking to was someone else entirely and it was paining to hear.

“Where are you?” Ivanka asked. “Let me come to you. Let me comfort you.”

“Ivanka…” Chelsea began and then trailed off. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? The press is hot, I know, but we can be discreet.”

“It’s not the media,” Chelsea said. “It’s you.”

“Me?”

She could hear tears in Chelsea’s voice. “Yes, you. This is a really difficult time. I don’t think...  I don’t know how to be with you now that he won, now that this is real.”

“What? Chelsea. We talked about this. I am not my father. I don’t believe what he believes. You know this.” She sounded desperate and she could feel tears welling in her eyes.  

“But you’re still on his side, even with everything that’s happened, even with everything that could happen.”

“He’s my father, Chelsea,” Ivanka said incredulously.

“Exactly,” she replied. “Look, I can’t do this right now. It’s too much.”

“Chelsea! Please don’t hang up. Let’s talk in person. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ivanka. But I can’t talk to you right now. I’m so sorry.” And with that, she hung up, the end of the line going silent. Ivanka pulled the phone from her ear and like an anchor had been tied to her heart. It was becoming difficult to breathe, to think.

She dropped her head saw small droplets of water on her chest and realized they were tears. She wiped her face but the tears continued and she soon gave up on stopping them.

She slid down against the wall and put her face in her hands, joining the rest of the country in not knowing what was going to happen next in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivanka refuses to accept the end of she and Chelsea’s relationship and travels to California to see her before the inauguration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to try to keep most of the surrounding political conflict as true and current as the news, but with how quickly things happen that is going to be difficult, so here is me drifting off into something else. I honestly think the change is for the better. 
> 
> A note: a few things are factually incorrect, like Hillary and Chelsea being in southern California, post-election, and not Westchester County, NY. I made these changes for plot purposes.

Ivanka sat against the wall, not able to get up or move forward from the blow that had just been laid at her heart. She'd lost Chelsea, the only person she had ever loved, and it didn’t look like she was ever going to get her back. She didn't know what else to do but sit there, eyes puffy and dazed. She wished for this to be a bad dream, the whole week a nightmare she could wake up from.

“Ivanka, are you there?” a women’s high-pitched voiced said against the door.

Ivanka stood up quickly, straightening out her now wrinkled outfit.

“Uh, yes, just one minute.” She glanced in the wall mirror. She looked like a disaster. Her hair was disheveled from running her hands through it so many times, her mascara had smeared because of the tears and her lipstick had nearly rubbed off. There was nothing she could do about it, though. She would just have to make up some sort of lie to explain the red in her eyes, the frazzled hair and the look of pain that she couldn’t erase.

She opened the door to see Nancy, one of her nannies, and her three kids, Arabella, Joseph and Theodore, standing around her.

“Mommy!” Arabella said running up and hugging her legs.

“Arabella, honey. I’ve missed you so much,” Ivanka said kneeling down and hugging her eldest daughter.

“Mrs. Trump, are you okay?” Nancy asked as she looked at the heiress disposition.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I think I’m falling under the weather,” Ivanka said, the lie coming out of her mouth smooth and easy. “All this running around takes a toll on you.”

“Yes it does,” Nancy agreed. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”

Ivanka forced a smile. “Thank you. I am. And now that these three are here, I should feel better at any moment.”

“Where’s daddy?” Joseph asked.

“He’s at work, but he said he can’t wait to see you soon,”

“Everyone’s always at work,” Joseph grumbled, throwing his toy to the ground.

“Hey, listen, sweetie,” Ivanka said pulling the boy close to her. “Mommy and daddy have lots of responsibilities and now that grandpa is president things will be even busier for us, but know that we love you and will spend as much time together as we can. Okay?”

Joseph nodded, his eyes still looking down at the ground.

The kids were a good distraction from Chelsea. Ivanka tried to make up for all the lost time with them by playing all of their favorite games for the rest of the night. It made her remember how much she missed just _playing_ with her kids and subsequently learning more about them. It was another thing that had been lost with the presidency. 

After putting the kids to bed, Ivanka's mind went instantly back to Chelsea. It was like like an impossible memory she couldn't forget.

She closed her eyes and thought of she and Chelsea being away from politics, from business, from money, from influence and to a place where they could be normal together. They would live somewhere in California, near the water. They would have the kids. And each day they would wake up next to each other, happy, whole and completely themselves. Ivanka fell asleep with the thought floating easily through her mind, it soon erasing the reality of her life.

* * *

Ivanka awoke the next morning and had agreed to do it before her mind had even fully considered the ramifications. She was going to see Chelsea.

But where was she? She knew Chelsea was with her mother, but the biggest question to come from that side of the camp since the election was where did Hillary go? No one knew and she didn't trust the people who did know. Ivanka thought of who she could call and suddenly hit her. Rachel Black, a political consultant. She would know the address of the home as she was friendly with the Clinton’s and knew a lot of Washington secrets having spent decades working in the town.

Ivanka had not spoken to here in years and hardly knew her, but she had to take a chance. She found her number and pressed _call_.

“Rachel, it's so nice to hear your voice,” Ivanka said. “How are Robert and the kids?”

“They're fantastic. But I should be asking you that question. I can't imagine how crazy your life has become.”

Ivanka laughed easily. “When has it not been?”

In truth, Ivanka hated small talk. She’d much rather get to the point of what she wanted to know but she learned that it was essential when dealing with acquaintances, especially when she needed a favor. As a Trump, Ivanka wasn’t used to asking for favors (it was usually others doing the asking), but if it was one thing Ivanka was good at it was humbling herself to get what she wanted.

She was also in a good position because with her father being the president-elect, well, she had much to bargain with, if things got to that point.

“Well, Rachel, I was calling to ask you for a bit of help,” Ivanka said, biting her bottom lip.

“Anything for you, Ivanka.”

“It’s about the Clintons. I know they have some property in southern California. You wouldn’t happen to know exactly where would you?”

“Oh, the Clintons?” Rachel asked, not expecting this to be the question Ivanka asked. “Um, yes, they have a home in Norwood. Do you need the specific address?”

Ivanka bit down further on her lip. She was not going to give away her motives, but Rachel was suspicious. She wanted to know. Ivanka had to keep her at bay.

“Yes, if you have it,” Ivanka said easily. She was not going to say more than she needed to say. If Rachel had questions she would have to ask, and when she asked Ivanka would make up something.

“Of course, let me find it,” Rachel said. “It’s been awhile since I had to use it.”

“Take your time,” Ivanka said patiently.

“Found it.” She proceeded to tell Ivanka the direct address.

“Thank you, Rachel. You’re a gift. This helps so much.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and, um, Ivanka?”

Ivanka closed her eyes. She was expecting this.

“The inauguration is coming up. The executive ball….”

Great. It wasn’t about the Clinton’s.

“Of course, I will have two tickets sent to you and Robert,” Ivanka said. Always a quid pro quo. Lucky, she had something she couldn’t care less about to bargain with.

“Splendid. Talk to you soon,” Rachel said and hung up.

The only thing that mattered was the address on the slip of paper that was in her hand. That was where Chelsea was and that was where she was going.

* * *

Ivanka walked quickly away from the helicopter launch pad and towards the black car that was waiting for her. This time there was no driver or anyone else for that matter.

She had arranged for the helicopter to drop her off 55 minutes away from where the Clinton’s house was. That way if a leak got out about her being on the West Coast they couldn’t automatically connect it to where the Clinton’s were. Once she got off the helicopter she would drive herself to the home.

This was when the plan became risky. Would Chelsea still be there? If she was, would she slam the door in her face? Refuse to talk to her? Those were the questions that ran through Ivanka’s mind during the hour long drive. She pushed the negative thoughts away. Regardless of what may happen, she was not letting Chelsea go easily. She hoped Chelsea would hear her out before pushing her aside.

Ivanka drove up the gravel path that led to the Clinton’s vacation home.

The home was much smaller than what she imagined it to be and seemed quaint, almost like something you would see in the cold northeast rather than in southern California.

As Ivanka pulled the car to a stop, she saw two men in black suits and sunglasses standing on the front porch looking directly at her car. Secret Service.

She turned the ignition off and looked at the two guards. She wondered if she should call Chelsea and ask her to come outside so she wouldn’t have to deal with the secret service but then she remembered Chelsea wasn’t answering her calls. She let out a sigh and stepped out the vehicle.

The men in suits stared intently at her. She moved as quickly as she could on top of the gravel in her heels and walked to the steps of the porch.

“Hi,” Ivanka said, offering a smile. “I’m Ivanka Trump, nice to meet you.”

“We recognize who you are,” the man on the left said looking squarely at her. He had a small mole on the top of his right lip and slight stubble.

“Great to know. Can I pass? I’m hoping to see Chelsea.”

The men didn’t move from their spots, effectively blocking her from moving any further.

“Mrs. Clinton did not say she was expecting visitors,” the man on the right said. “Is she aware that you would be coming here?”

Ivanka nearly lied and said ‘of course’ but stopped to think. Would lying be her best decision right now? No. She didn’t want to do anything to prevent her from not seeing Chelsea.

“No, she did not,” Ivanka said honestly. “I’m here as a surprise, a pick-me-up, if you will.” She smiled again.

The two men stared at her. “We’ll let her know you’re here. Please don’t move.”

“Can I go in, at least? I’m not here to cause—”

“With all due respect, ma’am, we cannot let anyone who is not family into the home, not even the daughter of the...president-elect.” His voice had an edge to it as he said the last word.

Ivanka clenched her jaw and stood there silently, the sun from the perfect California heat resting easy on her temple.

A few minutes passed and she saw the man on the left come back outside with Chelsea following behind him.

“Ivanka,” Chelsea said in a tone that was impossible to read. “What… what are you doing here?"

It was unfair how beautiful Chelsea looked standing there with the rustic porch as a backdrop. Even in an oversized sweater and ponytail, she was a vision. Looking at her, Ivanka was overcome with a desire to push past the guards and kiss Chelsea on the mouth before taking her to bed.

“I had to see you. I need to tell you something," Ivanka said  

Chelsea swallowed and folded her arms across her chest. “I told you…” she said slowly.

“I know what you said,” Ivanka interrupted desperately, looking between Chelsea and the guards. She knew they were listening to the conversation and she didn’t want to reveal her biggest secret to a couple of security guards. “Can we talk inside...please?”

Chelsea looked at her. “She can come in.”

The two secret service men proceeded to step aside and Ivanka walked up the three steps and followed Chelsea inside.

Ivanka didn’t know if anyone else was in the home. As they entered the common room area, the house felt empty.

Soon as they were in the room Chelsea turned around. “Why are you here?” Her voice was a decibel below yelling. “I said I couldn’t see you anymore. And then you show up here. Did you bring the press with you?”

“No. No one knows I’m here. No one at all,” Ivanka said, keeping her voice leveled. She could tell Chelsea was mad at her but, to be absolutely honest, she would give everything she owned to be standing here with an angry Chelsea than with no Chelsea at all.

Chelsea closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “What I said over the phone was the truth.”

Ivanka wanted to reach out and grab her hand, pull her close, but the secret service was still outside and she didn’t know if more were in the house.

“Chelsea, I love you. I can’t let you go that easily.”

“Well you’re going to have to,” Chelsea said. “I refuse to be with someone who is standing around while…”

“That’s not fair,” Ivanka shot back, challenging her. “You act as if I have much control in this situation when I don't. You act as if I wanted this. Would you leave your family to be with me? Are you willing to do the things you demand from me? I love you, Chelsea. I’ve never stopped loving you and I doubt I ever will be able to. You have my entire heart and I am not asking for it back. All I’m asking is that you meet me where I’m at.”

The front door swung open. Marc, Chelsea’s husband, walked into the house. He stopped when he saw Ivanka standing there, looking confused.

“Hi, honey,” Chelsea said, walking over to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Ivanka decided to drop in for a visit.”

He nodded slowly, still not understanding what was going on.

Ivanka seethed silently to herself. It wasn’t that she hated Marc, it was just that he always stood as another obstacle to her and Chelsea being near each other. She knew she was with Jared for the sake of the business and the looks, but sometimes she thought Chelsea truly cared about Marc. It had been a source of contention for them on and off again for awhile now.

Right now Ivanka wished for him to disappear, go somewhere else, so she and Chelsea could be alone again. It always felt like men were interrupting their time together.

“Nice to see you, Ivanka,” Marc said walking to her and holding out his hand. “I trust everything is going well with the family.”

“Yes, everyone is in good spirits,” she said, shaking his hand while offering a fake smile.

He chuckled. “That’s what I hear.”

“Well let me not interrupt you two any longer. I’ll be upstairs, honey,” he said kissing Chelsea on the lips.

Ivanka watched as his body disappeared up the stairs, the kiss she just witnessed still replaying in her mind.

“You can’t be here,” Chelsea said looking at the ground. “My parents, Charlotte, Aiden and Marc are all here.”

Ivanka thought back to when they were in their mid-twenties before they were married and had kids. How easy it was. How little they appreciated it.

“Is there anywhere we could go to be alone?” Ivanka asked earnestly. “I have something to tell you and then I will leave-if you still want me to.”

Chelsea nodded and took her downstairs to a nicely decorated basement that served as a family-style common room. It was obvious no one came down there often as evidenced from the couch that looked like it had never been sat in.

“No one will interrupt us down here,” Chelsea said quietly walking to the middle of the room. “Now what did you have to say?”

Ivanka turned around and kissed Chelsea fully on the mouth. She had wanted to do that from the moment she saw her. It had been far too long.

Chelsea was surprised at first but didn’t pull away, instead, her body began to relax into Ivanka’s. Ivanka felt her stomach do backflips and pushed her body closer into Chelsea’s.

Her tongue moved slowly inside of Chelsea’s mouth as they kissed deeper. Ivanka felt her panties begin to wet at the thought of pushing the kiss further.

Ivanka was doing good at holding back, but then Chelsea ran her hands through her hair, a move that always drove her crazy, and that was it. Ivanka pushed her up against the wall and felt her bare breasts over her sweater. This elicited a low moan from Chelsea into her mouth.

She slowly moved her hands to Chelsea’s jeans and pulled the zipper down. Moving her hands inside the pants and past her panties, she felt wetness cover her her fingers.

Chelsea wrapped her arms around Ivanka’s neck and pulled her in closer. “You have no idea...” she breathed.

“Yes, I do,” Ivanka said as she sucked gently on Chelsea’s neck.

They stopped for a moment and stared into each other’s eyes. No one said anything. Ivanka dropped to her knees and pulled Chelsea’s pants down with her, smelling Chelsea’s scent.

“You have to stay quiet,” Ivanka whispered as she hooked a leg over her shoulder.

Ivanka began to get lost between Chelsea’s legs. She was so wet and tasted so sweet. There was no shortage of cum to lick up.

Chelsea threw her head back against the wall and it sounded with a dull pound.

She didn’t stop to look up at Chelsea so she couldn’t see the blonde holding her hands over her mouth to stifle her moans, or see her eyes close as her body was starting to shake. All Ivanka could feel was Chelsea’s hips start to buck as an orgasm overcame her.

Ivanka moved to press Chelsea’s hips down. She wasn’t finished.

She didn’t know how Chelsea was going to react to the news she was going to tell her. This may very well be the last time she got to have Chelsea—all of her—and she didn’t want it to end so quickly.

She eased up from working Chelsea’s clit and moved to gently licking the cum between her folds as Chelsea came down from the first orgasm. A few minutes passed and once Chelsea seemed composed, Ivanka went back to work this time using two fingers to move quickly in and out of Chelsea while she flicked her tongue back and forth between on her clit.

Chelsea was beside herself now, her legs tensing up and using the wall to prop her up. Ivanka gave one final flick and Chelsea was overcome with another powerful climax. Ivanka stood up and Chelsea fell into her arms as she trembled against her.

“It shouldn’t be possible for you to be able to do that,” Chelsea breathed against Ivanka’s throat.

“You bring out the impossible in me,” Ivanka said stroking her back gently.

Chelsea looked up at her and kissed her. She moved her hands under Ivanka’s dress. “Let me return the favor,” she husked.

* * *

“Ivanka…” Chelsea breathed slowly breaking the kiss. They were still standing impossibly close to one another and Ivanka was holding her waist.

Chelsea leaned her head into Ivanka’s chest and Ivanka held her tight. “I love you,” Chelsea whispered.

“I love you too.”

Chelsea looked up and Ivanka stared back into her sea-blue eyes. “What did you come here to tell me?” 

“I’m divorcing Jared, and I’m not moving to DC.”

Chelsea pulled away. “What?”

“I don’t want my hands dirty with what is about to happen. I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself. I’m still going to keep my position, but I’m moving away from the rest. Jared… He will be okay. I’m going to try to keep the kids.”

Ivanka had been thinking about this since yesterday, subscounciously even before then, and was ready to move forward, at leasst she thought she was.

Chelsea looked at her. “This is going to be in the news forever.”

“I don’t care about that. Chelsea, you’re the only person I care about. I want us to work. I want us to be together, really be together.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Chelsea said softly looking away. “I have Marc and Charlotte and Aiden.”

“This is complicated, I know. But losing you, hardly having you, has made me want to put everything aside. I had a dream last night about me, you and the kids living together near the beach. It was so beautiful, Chelsea. I don't know how we could make that happen, but it's something I want to work towards. It's something I want to do.”

Chelsea's eyes shifted to the ground. Ivanka was quiet. She knew she was putting a lot on Chelsea but there was no other way to say it.

“You love me, right?”

“Yes.”

“So do this with me.”

Chelsea was not impulsive. She was the type to consider all options before moving toward something. Ivanka knew this and knew she wouldn’t get a definite answer that day. It was, after all, a lot to consider.

“I don’t know, I have to think,” Chelsea said.

“I understand,” Ivanka said.

At least she is going to think about it, at least she is going to consider it.

“What now?”

“I’m going to give you your space,” Ivanka said. “I’m going back home.”

Chelsea didn’t say anything, just nodded.

They walked back upstairs. Marc was sitting on the couch reading. Suddenly the two secret service men from earlier had come in through the front door.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Clinton, we have a problem.”

They all three walked to the window and saw two CNN vans had pulled up. Another van was speeding up the road.

Everyone’s head turned and looked at Ivanka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed this. Please let me know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in the Clinton’s vacation home, Ivanka feels the consequences of her decision to come see Chelsea.

“I thought no one knew you were here?” Chelsea asked, turning to look at her.

“No one doesn’t,” Ivanka replied, suddenly out of breath but unable to take her eyes off the vans outside the house.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. The media finding out she was at the Clinton’s was the _absolute worst_ thing that could happen. Her father’s transition into the presidency aside, this would make it too easy for someone to connect the dots that she and Chelsea were together. She thought she had done everything to ensure no one would catch her. She had gotten the private jet and the helicopter and the car all leased in someone else’s name. She had taken every precaution possible. And then her mind went to Rachel Black, the political consultant. She must have let it slip that Ivanka was coming here...or intentionally told someone.

“Fuck!” Marc yelled out, walking away from the window and beginning to pace back and forth across the small room. He came to a sudden stop as a realization hit him. “We have to tell Hillary and Bill. They have Charlotte and Aiden with them.”

He pulled his out iPhone and begin to call when the secret service agent with the mole placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Sir, we will take it from here and alert the team that is with them.” He took out a walkie-talkie from his pocket and turned it on. The sound of static filled the tense room.

“The press is here,” he said into the walkie talkie. “We need the Evergreen Bundle brought back to home base immediately. Over.”

“ _Roger that_ ,” a female voice said through the static walkie talkie reception.

“They’ll be back from their walk in the woods soon,” the agent said putting his walkie talkie back into his pocket.

Ivanka looked back at Chelsea who had returned to looking out the window. The number of news vans in front of the house had suddenly grown to five, and reporters were beginning to set up cameras in front of the house to broadcast live.

“This can’t be real,” Marc said, aggravation loud and clear in his voice. “Ivanka being here has been trending on Twitter for the past three hours. How did no one catch this?”

Ivanka pulled out her phone from her purse. Multiple missed calls from Jared and Eric. No doubt trying to figure out where she was. She could only imagine how things were going at Trump Tower after word got out she was here.

More news vans were pulling up and Ivanka felt like the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. But what could she do? Her plan had always been to come here, make-up with Chelsea, tell her the news and leave for back to NYC. Now the media were here and her stealthy exit had been blown up.

“I’m so sorry,” Ivanka said, her voice low and only audible to the woman standing next to her.

“It’s okay,” Chelsea said pulling her eyes from the scene outside. “It's not the like we haven’t had to deal with the press before.” She reached for Ivanka’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Ivanka gave a weak smile back, thankful for Chelsea’s gesture.

“ _We are approximately five minutes away from home base with the Evergreen Bundle. Over_ ,” came the female voice from the agents walkie talkie.

“Enter through the back door. Over,” he replied instantly.

“Mrs. Clinton, please move away from the window,” the other agent said. “It is for your safety.”

Chelsea let out a sigh and walked to the cream colored couch sitting in the middle of the living room. Marc looked at Chelsea and then towards Ivanka.

“You couldn’t have been a little more careful?” he asked.

“I was careful,” Ivanka insisted.

“You brought the press with you. That is not careful.”

“Marc, stop,” Chelsea said, already exhausted from the back and forth.

Ivanka jaws clenched. Marc was not going to scold her like a child, not in front of Chelsea, or anyone else for the matter. 

“I’m sorry this is happening,” she said slowly “but the person I got the address from was discreet.”

Marc scoffed. “You’re new to Washington, so here’s a tip: no one is discreet.”

“Thank you, I’ll remember that completely unheard of advice,” Ivanka retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Not to be rude, but why are you here? This was supposed to be for family only. Don’t you have some backroom deals to make with your brothers?”

“Marc, I said stop it!” Chelsea snapped.

Ivanka’s anger was about to boil over. She wanted to reach over and slap Marc across his face. That or tell him she’d just got finished fucking his wife right under him. Anything to devastate him.

Marc threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know how you could even talk to her after everything that happened,” he said.

Chelsea didn’t respond to his comment, instead she looked at Ivanka, attempting to apologize for Marc with her eyes. Ivanka tried to give a smile to show she was fine but could barely muster it. Her irritation with Marc was still bubbling at the service.

“ _Evergreen Bundle approaching back door, over_ ,” came the woman’s voice the walkie talkie.

“Roger that,” the agent with the mole said. 

And moments later the walkie talkie declaration came true when Bill and Hillary walked into the house with two more secret service agents. The female agent Ivanka had been hearing over the walkie talkie was holding a sleeping Aiden in her arms.

It was as if a rush of fresh air had entered the home with the former president and almost president. The mood had also changed from something tension-filled to more mitigated.

Ivanka had met Bill and Hillary many times before but this was the first time they were all in such a contained space. Ivanka watched as they came through the back panel door looking surprisingly at ease. Hillary's usual stoicism and cast iron serious was all but gone, replaced by a relaxed and at ease disposition. Even to someone who had never saw them before, one could tell the two people who had just entered in were significant.

Chelsea smiled and walked over to hug both of her parents before picking up a sleeping Aiden.

“Well, well, it never stays dull for long,” Bill joked, his Arkansas accent thick as ever.

“Nope, it sure doesn’t,” Marc said shooting a glare at Ivanka. The room went back to feeling tight and Ivanka swallowed.

“Ivanka,” Hillary said looking at the tall blonde standing in the middle of the living room. “I didn’t know you were coming here.”

“It was a surprise, for Chelsea,” Ivanka said, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as she felt.

She chuckled easily. “So I guess you’re the reason for all the commotion.” It wasn’t an accusation, more of an attempt to lighten the mood. The former Secretary of State smiled and walked over to give her a hug.

“I suppose so,” Ivanka replied returning the hug and smelling Hillary’s flowery scent. The tightness in the room let up a little.

“So, how bad is it?” Hillary asked no one in particular.

“Looks like most of the major news outlets have arrived, but I’m sure more are behind them,” the agent with no mole said. “The same as before.”

“Before?” Ivanka asked.

“Yes, this happened with our place upstate after mom gave her concession speech following the election,” Chelsea said. “Everyone wants to see how she is doing.”

“Who doesn't want to get a shot of the loser?” Hillary said laughing.

Ivanka nodded, not sure what to say. The Clinton’s were here to get away from the camera’s and the exact opposite was happening.

“How was the walk?” Chelsea asked, attempting to change the conversation.

“It was great, the trees around here are so nice,” Bill said sitting down on the couch with Charlotte on his knee. “The little one fell asleep as soon as we started—”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the female agent said. “But I wanted to update you all on what our POA (plan of action) is. We have moved to start securing the home further than what is already in place. I need to know if you all are planning to stay here or moving locations. If you are moving, we need to work out travel logistics immediately.”

No one said anything at first.

“I suppose we will have to move,” Bill said. “They’ll be camped out of here until then.”

“I say we leave tomorrow morning, head back east,” Hillary suggested. “At least we were able to spend a nice bit of time out here. I was beginning to feel restless anyways.”

“Sounds good. Mr. and Mrs. Clinton, can we go to a quiet room to organize travel logistics for the morning?” the female agent asked. Both Bill and Hillary nodded and the three soon left the room.

“I'm going to change Aiden's diaper," Chelsea said standing up with her youngest child. "Charlotte, can you help mommy?"

Her daughter got up eagerly from the couch and the three of them exited the living room. Suddenly it was only Ivanka, Marc and the secret service agents left and Ivanka didn't want to look at any of them. She walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water. What she really needed was a _drink_ , but given all that was happening outside she figured pulling out a bottle of wine wouldn’t be appropriate.

She stood against the counter drinking the cold filtered water. It felt good going down her throat. Not good enough to make her forget about everything that had happened in the past 15 minutes but enough to calm her down a little. She reached to pour herself another glass when Marc walked in. 

“Remember not to get too close to the windows,” he said opening up the refrigerator. “Don’t want to give the media their money shot without making them wait a little while.”

“What is your problem?” Ivanka bit out. “I told you I didn’t bring them here.” The thought she had earlier about slapping him was close to coming to true. 

“I don’t have a problem with you,” Marc said taking a beer out of the fridge. “I have a problem with people like you, people who walk around acting like they can say and do anything without thinking how it’s going to affect others.”

“You don’t know me, Marc. Don’t try to make generalizations about me.”

“I know you spend too much time with Chelsea,” he said coldly. “Even now with you coming up here unexpected, it’s like you’re obsessed with her or something. If you could think about someone other than yourself you would see this 'friendship' is taking a toll on her. And it needs to stop.”

His words cut sharply against Ivanka’s thick skin. She tried not to flinch or show they had affected her.

“Chelsea doesn’t need you to speak for her. She is perfectly capable of doing that herself,” Ivanka said.

“If you would do what was right, you would leave her alone and let her heal. You don’t know how much she gave that damn election.” He slammed the fridge and walked out the room.

 _Please_ , Ivanka thought. _I was there every step of the way. I know exactly what she gave and what it did to her._ But a bit of doubt crept inside her. Did she really know? Was she giving her enough space? 

Ivanka let out a deep sigh and looked up at the ceiling with it’s perfectly carved crown molding. It was almost too perfect to look at and so she looked down at her heels for the first time all day and saw they had been scratched from walking across the gravel driveway. They were officially ruined and she wished she could throw the shoes away.

“The scratches aren’t that bad,” a voice said from the kitchen door. Ivanka turned to see Chelsea standing there.

Ivanka smiled. “They’re horrendous.”

Chelsea came further into the kitchen and stood a distance apart from Ivanka. Her sea blue eyes looked as far away as the Atlantic. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“I should be asking you that,” Ivanka said, thinking about what Marc had just said.

“It’s fine. _I’m fine_. Like I said earlier, this isn’t new for us.” She offered a smile to let Ivanka know she wasn’t lying.

“What about your vacation?”

Chelsea shrugged. “This is my life, our lives. I’m used to it.”

“That's true, but the way Marc is freaking out…” Ivanka’s voice trailed off.

“He is just stressed,” Chelsea said. “He’s never been good around the cameras. He hates that the kids have to go through this.”

“And what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you feel about the press and the kids?”

“I mean, I hate it,” Chelsea said, seeming to look past Ivanka as she spoke. “I hated it when I was a kid. But it comes with the territory.”

Ivanka nodded. 

“You never answered my question,” Chelsea said.

“How am I? I don’t know honestly,” Ivanka said looking back down towards her scuffed heels. “I just… I just thought your mother would win and all of this would be over and we would be, I don’t know, able to see each other more. But none of that happened, and it’s just really hard to reconcile with.

When you said you couldn’t see me anymore, Chelsea, I felt like someone had died. I felt like I had died. It made me realize how badly I didn’t want to lose you.” Ivanka let out a deep breath, happy to finally articulate how she felt. 

“It wasn’t easy for me to say either,” Chelsea admitted. “I hate how you make me feel sometimes Ivanka. I feel like I lose control of everything I know about right or wrong, good or bad. At the same time, I love that feeling and want to feel it every day.”

Ivanka didn’t say anything and they stood there in silence letting the weight of their words hover over each other. There wasn’t any more to say and yet there was so much more.

In the silence, Ivanka heard her phone vibrating in her purse. She didn’t want to pick it up but it had been ringing for the past five minutes straight. 

“I’ll let you take that,” Chelsea said. And Ivanka nodded.

She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Jared. She took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello?”

“Ivanka? Are you okay? I’ve been trying to get through for the past hour.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Everything is fine."

“Where are you? The press is saying you're at the _Clinton’s_?” Jared asked, seemingly not able to comprehend how that could be possible.

It did sound crazy from an objective point of view. Her father did after all just wage one of the most disparaging presidential races in modern history against a woman whose vacation home she was now standing in. But the objective point of view leaves out her affair with Chelsea and how it's consumed her mind every day for the past 5 years. Learn that part of the story and anyone would understand why Ivanka made the risky trip to California.

“Yes, I'm here,” Ivanka replied.

“Why?”

“Because Chelsea needed support and she is one of my closest friends.” It was at least partially true.

“That couldn't wait until after the inauguration?” Jared asked rhetorically. “It's not like we don't have an entire country to turn around, Ivanka.”

“Things will be fine without me there, Jared,” Ivanka said, already annoyed at where the conversation was about to go. She was tired of men talking to her as if she didn't know what she was doing, as if she couldn’t comprehend everything that was going on.

“You know how much of an asset we are to your father," he said. "We need you here.”

“I don't think you believe that as much as you think you do,” Ivanka said.

“What is wrong with you?" Jared asked taken aback by her response. "What is going on?”

 _My problem is that I want to leave this behind me. I want to be away from all of this_ , Ivanka thought to herself.

“Nothing, nothing I have to go. I will tell you when I'm on my way back.”

“Do not hang up this phone on me,” Jared said threateningly. “I don’t know what’s been going on with you lately but you need to get back to yourself. You need to get back to New York. Your father has the media coming for him each day. He can't have his daughter going around purposely adding fuel to the fire.”

“I will be back in New York when I am ready, Jared. I have business to take care of here.” She hung up and turned off her phone completely.

Her father was in the midst of finding members to appoint to his cabinet. They were also in the midst of planning for the inauguration, which was a few weeks away. Donald would want to know her thoughts on all of it, but she was done with her father’s actions dictating her life. She was, for once, trying to make decisions solely for herself. It had gotten off to a rocky start but she was going to keep trying. 

* * *

The day grew darker as the sun begin to set over the tree laden area of Norwood where the Clinton's were vacationing in. The news cameras were still outside. Social media was on fire. Everyone in the house had been commanded to stay away from doors and windows. (“Utterly ridiculous,” Bill said of the command.) Ivanka and the secret service had decided she would leave once it got darker as it would be hard for the camera crews to see her given the lack of light. A agent would drive her car as close to the back of the house as they could and she would drive back to the deserted area she came from to be picked up by a helicopter.

The plan wasn’t perfect, nor ideal, but neither was the situation they were currently in. Part of her was glad she wasn't staying the night. She didn't want to think about Marc going to bed with Chelsea and the fact she wasn't able to. It was only in moments like that when she was envious of him.

By 8 p.m. everyone had mostly dispersed to various parts of the house to decompress. Ivanka sat on the bed in a guest bedroom and waited for the call that her car was ready.

Chelsea was in the children’s room putting Charlotte to bed, Aiden had already fallen asleep. 

Ivanka knew Chelsea was alone and wanted to see her privately before she left but Marc’s words from earlier were still lingering in her mind: _“If you would do what was right, you would leave her alone and let her heal.”_

He was wrong, this she fully believed, but a small amount of doubt was in her mind. Maybe this was all a mistake, coming here to see Chelsea unannounced, telling her about her plans to divorce Jared, contacting Rachel, a woman she hardly knew, to find out such delicate information. This was not who Ivanka was. She wasn’t sloppy, she didn’t make mistakes. And yet she had made a number of them these past two days in an effort to not lose Chelsea permanently. And the ridiculous part of it all is she would do it again.

_“It’s like you’re obsessed with her or something.”_

She _was_ obsessed with Chelsea. She wanted her badly. From the moment she first met her she knew there was something different about her. For a long time just knowing Chelsea loved her was enough to deal with the frustrating fact they couldn’t actually be together. But the distance between them this past year was almost unbearable and it had started to make her desperate, as evidenced by her coming here.

“If you want to freshen up there’s a powder room here. It's the furthest room down the left hall,” Chelsea said stopping by her door and pulling Ivanka from her thoughts.

Ivanka smiled. “Thank you, Chels.”

Chelsea smiled back but didn't turn to leave. She looked like she wanted to stay something.

Ivanka’s mind went to six hours earlier, the last time they were alone in a room with no one around, and she thought about how badly she wished she could go back to that moment.

“I’ve been thinking about what you mentioned earlier,” Chelsea said, walking further into the room. "About us...leaving."

“You have?” Ivanka asked.

“Yes,” Chelsea replied. She took a deep breath. "I can’t think of anything I want more than to be with you and for us to have our kids and to build our own family together. Even before you brought it up, I used to think about it.” 

Chelsea played with the end of her shirt. “But I can’t leave my mother. I can’t leave her side. I don’t know how to describe it, Ivanka, but she’s my strength. And I’m hers.”

Ivanka could feel her chest deflate, her heartbeat slow down. 

"Maybe we're getting too ahead of ourselves," Chelsea continued. “This sounds so scary to say, but I don’t think I know how to be...normal. I don’t know if I could live a life without the work I do now, let alone if it’s possible. I’m always going to be Chelsea Clinton. You’re always going to be Ivanka Trump. There is nowhere we can go to escape that.”

Ivanka couldn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say. Chelsea was right. They were who they were. Where could the two of them go in America with their kids and be together publicly? All those things Ivanka said earlier sounded good but could were they really possible? 

"You're right," was all Ivanka could say. And it was the truth, she just wished it wasn't. 

"We're going to make this work," Chelsea said looking Ivanka in her eyes. "I don't know how yet, but we always find a way to make it work." 

Ivanka nodded. At the very least Chelsea saying that meant her trip wasn't in vain, she didn't risk everything for nothing. 

"I should head downstairs. They said my car should be near the back around this time." Ivanka stood up from sitting on the bed and straightened out her dress.

“Let me know when you make it to your plane. Okay?” Chelsea said.

“I promise to.”

Chelsea looked at her. “I know it may not seem like it, but I’m glad you came here, Ivanka. It reminded me not to give up.”

Ivanka smiled the widest smile she had given in weeks. She could honestly cry hearing Chelsea say that. “I would do it all over again for you,” she said.

Chelsea smiled. “Come here,” she whispered and pulled Ivanka’s hand towards her.

Ivanka stepped forward into Chelsea’s space and felt Chelsea’s lips meet hers. Ivanka closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Chelsea, her tongue was soon lost inside of Chelsea's mouth. 

When they pulled away, Ivanka rested her forehead against Chelsea’s and kept her eyes close. This is what she would miss most.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

She waited to hear Chelsea return the words but was met with silence. After a few moments, Ivanka opened her eyes and looked up. Chelsea wasn’t looking at her instead she was staring at Marc, who stood in the doorway staring at the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, though. Comments are always nice and super motivating. I really want to know your thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chelsea deals with the fallout after Marc discovers her and Ivanka's affair.

Chelsea stared at Marc from where she was standing, both of their mouths slightly ajar, his even moreso as he looked back and forth between she and Ivanka. The guest room the three of them were standing in mind as well been the location for the last day of their lives the way the air felt so tense and uncertain.

“Marc…” Chelsea began, moving away from Ivanka and losing their embrace. “Let me explain.”

“What… What is this?” Marc asked. The question came out slow and garbled like a patient coming off anesthesia.

Although she said she could explain, Chelsea didn’t know where to begin. She would never forget opening her eyes and seeing Marc in her peripheral standing there. They had been caught in the act, her mouth on Ivanka’s. The only thing going through her mind was how Marc would react. She felt Ivanka’s boff next to hers but didn’t dare look at her. Any acknowledgment of her lover was sure to send Marc into a spiral.

“Is this real?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Are you cheating on me? For how long?”

“Marc, I’m so sorry,” she said. It was all she had.

The words essentially confirmation, he stared at her and shook his head forcefully in disbelief. “I just got finished putting our son to sleep,” he said. “Our son, Chelsea!”

He shouted the last sentence and Chelsea exhaled deeply, positive the whole house was going to come to their room, this guest room, any minute to see what the commotion was.

“I can’t believe it,” Marc continued, nearly out of breath and putting his hands on his head to cover his face. "I loved you." He made a sound that sounded like a mix from a cry and a yell, she couldn't make out the difference. 

Suddenly, his hands dropped from his face and he looked at Ivanka, who was still standing beside Chelsea silent. “You…” he said slowly, a flash of anger marking his face one again. He took a threatening step in her direction and Ivanka flinched back. Her sudden movement out of fear seemed to snap him back into reality because he stopped charging and straightened up.

“Get out of my house,” he commanded, his voice deep and straight for the first time. “Now.”

Ivanka didn’t move, either too stunned or too scared. Chelsea felt the urge to point out this was not his house but it wasn’t the time. Before Marc could repeat himself, the female agent came into the room.

“Mrs. Trump, your car is ready—” she stopped speaking as she read the room: Chelsea standing there with a pale face full of worry, Ivanka looking terrified and Marc standing by the door looking like both a wounded and hungry animal.

“Is everything alright?” she asked slowly.

No one said anything. Chelsea was so sure Marc was going to say something, but to her surprise he was silent as they all stood there. In lieu of speaking up, he continued to glare at Ivanka who took a deep breath and picked up her purse from the bed.

“Thank you for letting me know," Ivanka said, her voice a forceful ease. "I’ll follow you down.” Chelsea knew she must be petrified at what was happening. She knew because Ivanka was at her coolest when she was her most scared.

Still, Chelsea didn’t—couldn’t—catch Ivanka’s eyes as she walked out of the room. She watched as she walked past Marc—who didn’t move out the way—and saw the last bit of her navy blue dress as it turned the corner. She desperately wished she could reach out to touch her one more time.

The agent looked back and forth between the two of them and then followed after Ivanka. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Suddenly it was only she and Marc in the room. He stared at her so deeply it was as if he was staring through her.

“With her?” he asked softly.

“I’m so sorry, Marc,” she said, her eyes starting to water. And she was. This was the first time she had actually felt bad from her actions.

“You’re only sorry because you were caught.” He turned around and walked out the room leaving Chelsea standing there alone.

* * *

Marc didn’t come to bed that night and Chelsea never expected him to. She crawled onto her side of the mattress and laid down, her mind still racing. She knew sleep wouldn’t come easy to her after everything that happened. She kept replaying Marc’s reaction. His face, his voice, the way he looked at her like she had just destroyed his life. And maybe she had. Family was everything to Marc, he would say this from time to time. She remembered him mentioning it on their first date, how he wanted a house full of children and just as many grandchildren. All of that was before he walked in while her lips were on Ivanka’s, before everything changed for good.

Ivanka.

The woman she loved, the woman who loved her back, fiercely, defiantly and persistently. The woman who had just asked, forever ago it seemed now, if she wanted to get away so they could for once be together. If only she would have asked that five years ago, Chelsea would’ve said yes then.

Sometimes Chelsea would find herself thinking about her life before they started seeing each other, how dull and void of color it was. She had Marc and she had her mother and she had her work at the Foundation, but all of those things had become a black and white puzzle—the pieces fitted neatly together but didn't paint any sort of picture. Ivanka changed that. Ivanka had come into her life like a fresh brush ready to paint broad strokes.

It was exhilarating and scary at first. Did this mean she was a gay? What about her marriage? What about her child? She would tell Ivanka these worries as they laid in bed, a post-sex haze lingering thickly over them. Ivanka would listen to her confess these fears quietly and when Chelsea finished she would kiss her shoulder affectionately and tell her not to worry so much about labels and meanings; the only thing that mattered is what felt right. It was such a laissez-faire attitude, one completely unknown to Chelsea but one she would soon come to adopt, especially as the affair progressed and they seemed to switch places, Ivanka more anxious and she the one without worry.

Chelsea had made the first move on Ivanka. When they were in Paris for a trip, just the two of them. But even before she reached in to kiss her, she knew Ivanka had wanted it just as bad as she did. And when they made love for the first time later that night, it was confirmed. Lying in bed, she would give almost anything to go back to that night.

Things weren't perfect—they were both mothers, they were both married—but they worked. They made it work. Then Donald Trump ran for president and started gaining steam and started winning primaries and then the nomination and then the presidency... It still hurt to even think about. She'll never forget that night, her mother’s face as the results came in, the shock, the unbelievable disappointment. It was as if they a blackhole had formed and swallowed everyone in the building whole. Chelsea blamed herself initially. Maybe she wasn't focused enough, maybe she didn't do enough, as if the outcome rested solely on her shoulders. The truth was she didn't take his campaign seriously enough, no one on their team did. Maybe that's why it was still so easy to lay with Ivanka, despite her father being who he was—his campaign wasn't real, he wouldn't win and after things would go back to being normal, this all a weird blimp at that point in time.

Chelsea tossed once more in her bed. The house was completely silent. She wished for a noise to occur, anything to distract her from the thoughts keeping her up. But the house remained quiet, not even a creak in the floorboard and her reflecting continued on uninterrupted.

She thought about Marc and the look on his face after she and Ivanka had been caught sharing their kiss. He was heartbroken. She never thought she could be capable of such pain and yet she was. Marc was a good guy. She did honestly care about him and he was a good father, but he wasn't Ivanka and that was what became apparent over the course of their marriage. He couldn't change that, but she could and she didn't. And now she was going to pay the price.

She didn't know what tomorrow would bring but she knew it wasn't going to be easy. Now was the time to tell the truth, the whole truth. She couldn't hide anymore. She knew Marc was going to want a divorce, she knew he was going to try to get the kids. But maybe if she was honest and humble, he would be willing to do this amicably, maybe he would be willing to keep the affair secret in return for some sort of custody deal. She hated that she was even thinking of this.

* * *

She woke the next morning with Marc sitting on the other side of their bed. Shirtless and wearing only his pajama pants, he cradled a sleeping Aiden in his arms as he looked down at him. Chelsea rose to a sitting position but didn’t say anything. She still didn’t know what to say, so she sat there staring at his back for several minutes. It felt like an eternity had passed when he finally spoke.

“Last night, I asked you how long it had been going on,” he said quietly. “But I don’t want to know... I can’t know.”

Chelsea looked down into her lap. She had only been awake for a few minutes but the pain from last night had returned.

“Do you love me?” he asked, his back still turned to her.

“Marc...”

“It’s a yes or no question, Chelsea.”

She didn’t know where he was going with this but gave him the answer he wanted to hear. “Yes, I do, Marc.” 

“Do you love our children?” he asked, looking down at Aiden.

“Of course. How could you ask such a thing?”

“Then whatever you had with her is over.” He turned around to face her, bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep. “I don’t want you seeing her anymore. Don’t talk to her anymore. Don't contact her. Or this marriage is over—and I won’t lie when people ask me why I ended it.”

His voice sounded final, as if he had been contemplating his words all night.

Chelsea stared at him nearly at a loss for words. Did he know he was threatening her? Did he care?

“Marc, we should talk about this. I want to tell you every—”

“Am I clear?” he asked ignoring the words she had begun to speak. It suddenly became obvious to Chelsea he didn’t want to talk about the affair. In fact, it seemed as if he had already begin to repress the memory of it. The distraught and dismayed Marc from last night was gone now replaced by a different Marc, this one more bent on keeping his family in tact than dealing with what could pull them apart. 

Chelsea looked at her sleeping son in his arms. He was giving her a choice, or what he thought was a semblance of a choice: act as if everything that happened last night was a farce, simply not real, or deal with the personal and political fallouts of him going public with her affair. This wasn't what she expected to happen. She thought Marc would want to end things not stay together. Worse, his threat to go public was something she didn't see coming. Marc was the type of person who liked to keep things away from the public, but he looked as serious as ever and she truly believed he would do it. It wasn't really a choice at all. 

"I won't see her again," Chelsea said softly.

He nodded and flashed a weak toothless smile. "Good. Let's put this behind us." He patted her on her knee and that was that. He got up and left the room and she felt herself, for the first time since she had woke up, breathe.

* * *

Before the day was over they were back in New York. Chelsea couldn't stand to be in the house with Marc. Her mind was still reeling from the conversation they had that morning. It was as if everything he said had started to really sink in and it was becoming too much. So she left to go to her parents house hoping some alone time with her mother would help her. She walked in her mother's spacious home office to find Hillary sitting on the couch reading.

Before Chelsea could get any pleasantries out her mother said, “I just told Donna and Neera that I will be attending the inauguration.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s important to show support,” she said plainly. "The inauguration is bigger than him and the Republican party. I have to be there to show that."

Her mother was full of such grace. A lesser person wouldn't be caught in D.C. after everything that had happened and continues to happen with Donald Trump. Her mother was different.  

“Your father will go with me, although his attendance is more expected. Will you be joining us?”

Chelsea had hardly thought about the inauguration, even though news about it was everywhere. Ivanka would be there, front and center, looking as beautiful as ever. And then she thought about what Marc had said before they left the vacation home. It hit her how impossible it would be for her to see Ivanka going forward. Suddenly she was overcome with uncontrollable emotion and begin to cry as she stood in front of her mother.

“Chelsea?” Hillary asked, confusion all over her face.

“I messed up, Mom. I messed up terribly.”

Hillary was taken aback by Chelsea’s reaction. “Oh, honey,” she said standing to hug her only child. “What’s wrong? It can’t be that bad.”

“It is, Mom,” Chelsea into her mothers chest. “It is.”

Hillary pulled away and looked at her, really looked at her. “What happened?” Her voice was clear, direct, serious.

Chelsea could hardly meet her mother’s eyes. Instead she looked toward the floor and for the first time since her affair with Ivanka began, she felt shame.

It wasn’t true to say she didn’t know her affair with Ivanka had consequences. No, she was reminded of that each time they had to coordinate their schedules to meet in secret, each time she lied to family, friends and colleagues about her whereabouts. But a long time ago it stopped being about the people in their lives being affected and instead on the political fallout. Now looking at her worried mother—a woman who had to face her own adulterous husband nearly 25 years ago—Chelsea was fully and acutely aware of how shameful her actions were. It was almost too much to bear. And yet she needed to tell someone, she needed to let it out. And who better than the person she considered her best friend?

“I… I’ve been having an affair Ivanka for the past five years," she began, her throat trying its hardest to tighten up. "Marc found out about it two days ago. He is threatening to go public if we see each other again. I can’t go to the inauguration.” She continued to tell everything. About the meetups, them seeing each other during the campaign, why Ivanka had come to the vacation home. All of it. It was as if she was a dam that had just been broken, water flowing out her fast and instantaneous. 

When she finally finished, Hillary didn’t say a word. Chelsea felt embarrassment overcome her as she waited in the silence. What was her mother thinking of her?

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked finally.

Chelsea nodded somberly.

“Why weren’t you honest from the beginning?”

It sounded like such a simple question but it was also loaded. It rested on the condition that it was possible to be honest.

“It never felt feasible,” Chelsea said. “The political fallout—”

“Oh, goodness,” Hillary interrupted. “Did I raise you that way? To betray your heart for politics?”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Chelsea said. “It’s just impossible to push aside sometimes. And even more than that, I didn’t know what it all meant at the time, I still don’t. I care about Ivanka - I love her - but I’ve never been ready to confront what that may mean about who I am.”

Hillary nodded. “I had never been more devastated than when I discovered your father was having an affair," she said. "That was the most painful experience of my life- and I lost the chance to become president twice. It was the betrayal that hurt the most. We say we do a lot of things for love, or in the name of love, but the first thing we need to do is be honest to ourselves. When you're not honest with yourself, people get hurt."

Chelsea hung her head. Her mother was right.

"That doesn't excuse what Marc is trying to do," her mother continued. "It's not right."

"I know but the alternative feels far worse at this point."

"You said you loved Ivanka?" Hillary asked.

"Yes."

"So staying away from her is the easier thing to do?"

"No, it's not but we could never truly be together. Not now."

Hillary nodded her head. "There's an answer in this, Chelsea. I think you know it. I'm hoping you find the courage to go through with it."

Chelsea looked at her mother. She didn't understand what she meant. Before she could ask her to explain, her mother said, "I have to go now, but please remember everything I said." And she got up to leave the room, leaving Chelsea wondering what the answer to this really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No cliffhanger this time haha. But pretty angsty. Hope you liked seeing things from Chelsea POV. Comments always appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s inauguration time! How are our two lovers getting by without each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo I definitely wanted to include some smut in this chapter.

“Turn slightly to the right… Perfect! Okay. On my three count. One… two… three…”

_Snap!_

The flash from the massive camera was nearly blinding. Ivanka blinked away the stars that had formed in front of her eyes and shifted her weight from one leg to the next.

“How is it, Milo?” she asked the Italian-American photographer standing in front her, Melania and Tiffany.

“Absolutely stunning, of course,” he said looking away from the camera frame and giving her a wink. “Now let’s get one with you and Jared close.” He waved over Jared who was standing on the far end of the empty ballroom talking to Donald.

Jared swaggered over to where the photoshoot backdrop was and traded places with Melania and Tiffany. He slid in close to Ivanka and wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her in tight.

“Mmmm,” he breathed into her ear. “I love this scent on you.”

“That’s because you bought it,” Ivanka replied through her teeth, forcing a smile for the picture.

He laughed loudly at her remark just as the photo was snapped.

“Yes! That’s the winner,” Milo exclaimed. “I think we’re done here unless anyone has special requests?”

The inauguration was four days away and the Trumps were in full preparation mode. The first order of business for that day: a three-hour photo shoot with the entire family for various publications. Located in one of the ballrooms of the Trump International Hotel in DC, they were all dressed even glitzier than usual for the shoot. It was the most time the family had spent together since before her father ran for president, before everyone lost their minds. Everyone was in high spirits that morning, though. If there was one thing the Trumps were good at it, it was getting dressed up.

“I do. Milo, right?” Donald said coming over to the area set up for the shoot. “Let’s get one with me and my oldest daughter. I need one with her. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

Ivanka tried not to grimace at the statement. Knowing she played a role in all this—and continued to do so—would always grate her.

“Okay,” Milo said, moving back to where he originally stood to take the picture. “Pose however you want.” Her father wrapped his arm around her waist the same as Jared did and smiled wide. Ignoring the implications of their positioning, Ivanka smiled weakly for the photo.

“Great,” Milo said. “I think you will like this one, Mr. Trump.”

“You’re brilliant, Merlin. Brilliant. I should make you my official White House photographer after all of this,” her father said, patting Milo roughly on his back.

Milo smiled meekly at the president-elect but didn’t correct the name mistake. Ivanka shook her head and walked away from the maroon photo backdrop to where her purse sat on the catering table. She dug through the leather bag and felt her hands move past her white iPhone to pull out a small, dated Blackberry.

Chelsea @ 9:18 a.m.: What time is the shoot over with?

Ivanka @ 11:32 a.m.: Just wrapped up. Interview with Vanity Fair next... Save me.

Chelsea @ 11:33 a.m.: I wish I could but I’m currently being held against my will in a DNC meeting.

Ivanka @ 11:33 a.m.: Shouldn’t you be paying attention?

Chelsea @ 11:34 a.m.: Not when I’ve heard every discussion item on the agenda three times already.

Ivanka @ 11:35 a.m.: Of course you have. Too bad I can’t come and pull you from that room...

When Chelsea called Ivanka two weeks ago from a private number and told her about the threat Marc had made she was furious. She had been worried sick about what would happen to Chelsea after she left the Clinton’s vacation home in California. So sick she pulled over twice on her way to the helicopter launchpad to dry heave on the side of the road. They had been caught, and going off the way Marc was looking at her as she left, she and Chelsea were ruined. She felt guilty. She felt foolish. And most of all she felt scared.

But then Chelsea told her about how hurt Marc was. “Hurt into delusion,” as she described. He didn’t want to know any of the specifics of the affair. He didn’t ask any questions and he didn’t want to talk about it further. As far as he was concerned, the kiss he witnessed between Ivanka and Chelsea may have well been on the cheek rather than the lips.

“And then he said not to contact me anymore?” Ivanka asked her.

“Yes, or else we’re getting a divorce and he would tell I was having an affair with you,” Chelsea said.

“So he’s just going to threaten you into this marriage?” Ivanka asked angrily.

“We’re lucky it’s not worse!” Chelsea breathed. “Ivanka, we’ve been caught. It’s done.”

Ivanka closed her eyes, her anger evaporating into regret once again. “I should’ve never come there,” she said softly.

“Please, don’t blame yourself. We were...on borrowed time.”

“I guess we were… So what now?”

“I don’t know, but I told my mother,” Chelsea said. “She knows everything now.”

“You told _Hillary_?” Ivanka asked incredulously. “Why?”

“I didn’t know what else to do. Everything was falling apart. I felt like _I_ was about to fall apart. I had to tell someone.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. What did she say?”

“She told me to be honest with myself, really honest... She also said I knew the answer to this—but I don’t know what she means by that.”

Ivanka nodded her head even though Chelsea couldn’t see it from the other side of the phone. “But she was okay with it?”

“She was still disappointed, but she was primarily concerned with making me feel better.”

“That’s good,” Ivanka said. “I’m glad she was there for you.”

“I need time to think, Ivanka, about next steps forward. But I still want us to talk.”

Ivanka swallowed remembering the last time Chelsea said she needed time to think. At least this time around she said she still wanted to communicate with her. That’s when the idea for the burner phones came in. They had gotten two outdated Blackberries and been using them to contact each other ever since. 

Ivanka's time was as tight as ever, but she always made sure she returned Chelsea's messages as soon as she could, just like she was doing now with a jam-packed schedule.

Chelsea @ 11:37 a.m.: I wish you could too. I can’t wait to see you at the inauguration. :)

“Ivanka,” Jared called out from the other side of the room. “Your dad wants to speak with us.”

Ivanka @ 11:37 a.m.: You have no idea how much I can’t wait either.

* * *

Chelsea walked up the steps to her home dreading the fact she had to open the door and enter. 

Her relationship with Marc had become more strained since leaving California. They would come home from work and hardly speak to one another, hardly look at one another. It had gotten to the point where some days the only time they communicated was if it concerned the kids. It was as if a growing mass was inside their house and neither one of them was doing anything to stop its growth.

When she entered into their living room, she found Marc standing in the middle of the room wearing a tuxedo. An elderly tailor measured him with a tape measure.

“Hey, honey,” he said distractedly as the tailor lifted his arm in the air.

“Hi..." she said. "Why are you getting fitted?”

“A new president is getting sworn in, honey,” he smirked. “If there is ever a time to get dressed up this is it.”

“I left a pin in my car, Mr. Mezvinsky," the tailor said, standing upright. "I’ll be right back.” 

“You’re going to the inauguration?” she asked once the tailor was out of the room.

“You’re going to need a date, right?”

“Of course… I just remembered you saying you didn’t want to attend anything related to the Trumps?”

“That was then and this is now,” he said looking down at the cufflinks. “I’ll be there.”

Chelsea knew he was only attending so he could keep an eye on her lest she saw Ivanka. She clenched her jaw. She was tired of playing this game with him.

“I haven’t talked to Ivanka in weeks and I don’t plan to meet her this weekend,” she said sternly.

Marc looked up her. “I didn’t say anything about Ivanka. And I would've hoped you stopped communicating with her—for our kid's sake at least.”

He was playing dumb, attempting to ignore the elephant in the room, but she pressed the issue. It was as if all the tension from the previous two weeks was coming to head. 

“You’re following me around like I’m a child, Marc.”

“Chelsea, I am your husband. We’re attending an event together. That is it. I don’t know why you’re reading so much into this.”

“Don't stand there and act like you haven't been trying to keep an eye on me since we've been back from California. Calling my office after hours to see if I'm there?" 

"It was late, and the kids were wondering where you were. I was making sure things were okay."

"I'm trying to make this work, Marc, but you are making it impossible." 

The tailor came back into the room and they both fell silent. 

"Just drop it," Marc said finally. 

Chelsea stared darts into him and then stormed off.  

* * *

It was about to be Ivanka’s fifth interview in as many hours. Luckily, it was the last one of the day and the easiest: a fluff piece with ABC.com. Ivanka stood from her make-up chair and looked at herself, no hint that it had been a 12-hour day in what was already a 40 hour work week three days in.

 _One last interview_ she thought to herself. _And then you can go home and have some time away from everything._

“We’re going on live soon,” a young production manager said to her. Ivanka nodded and made her way to the main chair.

“So Ivanka, tell me, how has it been preparing for the inauguration?” the interviewer said, sitting across from her.

“It’s been an incredible experience so far,” Ivanka said. “There are so many Americans excited for this and it’s hard not be in awe of the magnitude of it all.” She could do this interview in her sleep; it was all so manufactured.

“And what will you and the kids be wearing?”

“We all be wearing Kate Bowen. I’ve had a fantastic relationship with her for years, and I’m extremely grateful she is willing to work with my family to create some custom pieces for the weekend. I can't wait to debut them this weekend.”

“That sounds great. Okay, Ivanka, I wanted to shift topics for a minute,” the reporter said looking down at her notes. “Two weeks ago there were reports that you were with the Clinton’s at their vacation home in California. It caused quite a stir. However, we never got a clear response from you on what actually happened. So I want to ask you: Were you there with the Clinton’s?”

Ivanka swallowed. The interview was supposed to be strictly about inauguration prep and fashion, not politics and definitely not the Clinton’s. Luckily, this wasn't the first time an interviewer had gone off script with her. She would be able to handle it.

“No, Heather, I wasn’t,” she said, laughing to emphasize how ridiculous the question was. “I’ve been working hard to make sure my family is ready for the biggest transition of their life. I’m not sure how that rumor even began.”

“So you’re saying you weren’t in California? I know you and Chelsea Clinton used to be good friends. Many think you may have gone there to make amends?”

“Chelsea and I are still very close, that has never wavered. I do wish I could see her more often but no, I was not there.” Ivanka needed the conversation to move on. She didn’t want her reaction to these questions, no matter how small, to be dissected across the internet as they surely would.

“You and Chelsea are still close? Despite everything that has transpired between your parents?”

“I think we are able to separate politics from our personal lives. We’re two mature adults and preserving our relationship has always been very important to us.”

Damn it. She said relationship, not friendship. How could she let that slip?

But the reporter didn’t catch it and the next question was about Jared. Ivanka was thankful to finally move on from discussing Chelsea. She didn’t know where that line of questioning came from but the producers were surely going to hear from her once it was done. 

She finished the rest of the interview silently on edge. She was still a bit tense from the drama at the vacation home. She had cut it extremely close, and now both Marc and Hillary knew about her. Things were a lot less contained than they had been before, and she knew better than anyone that all it took was one person to bring something major down. She left her last interview of the day thinking about how she could do damage control on a fire that had not yet started. 

* * *

What was there to say about the inauguration of Donald Trump? Chelsea sat near her father and her mother, who remained stone-faced as ever. Chelsea couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind. Her mother was typically quick at making peace with situations but this was not most situations. They watched as he took his oath, gave his ill-worded speech and was sworn in as the 45th President of the United States. 

“I love you,” Chelsea said hugging her mother as everyone stood up after the event was over. “You are incredible.”

Hillary gave her a smile. “Thank you, Chelsea. No busy fretting now, we have to prepare for what’s coming next.”

Chelsea nodded, not wanting to think about a Trump presidency.

“Thank you for being by my side,” her mother said.

“Of course, absolutely.”

Chelsea felt Marc’s arm around her shoulder. She didn’t turn to look at him.

“Certainly wasn’t as long as I was expecting,” he said. Chelsea saw her mother look Marc up and down with her trademark icy stare. Marc didn’t seem notice.

“Yes, thank goodness it wasn't,” Chelsea said.

Hillary gave a light chuckle. “The one good thing about this event, I suppose. Your father and I are heading home. Where are you two off to?”

“Chelsea and I are attending Freedom Ball,” he said with a smile. "We're going back to the hotel to change." 

“Oh really?” her mother asked surprised. “I didn’t know you all were attending some of the events.”

“It was a last minute decision,” Chelsea said. “And this is the only thing we're going to.”

“Well you all are free to come to our home afterward,” Hillary said.

“Thanks, mom.”

Five hours later, Chelsea and Marc walked into the huge ballroom that was Freedom Ball. A red, white and blue color scheme dominated the room. American flags hung from the ceiling. And interspersed through it all was hints of Donald Trump’s taste: golds, diamonds, over-done statement pieces. They took their seats and started listening to the band currently on stage.

Why were they here? Her parents had left after the ceremony. This was not their crowd. They should’ve left a while ago but Marc insisted on coming. She didn’t understand. Marc hated fancy events and he hated the Trumps. Yet he was currently at a fancy event for the Trumps. It didn’t make sense.

Chelsea took in the scene in the room and was immediately bored to death. The thousand dollar suits, the wives holding onto their husbands, how stiff everyone was. She had been to enough political events in her life to know how contrived the atmosphere typically was, but this was something else.

She continued to scan the room and her eyes fell on Ivanka who looked as stunning as ever. She wore a champagne embellished gown with a sheer bodice completely bedazzled in diamonds, while the rest of the gown flowed out into a princess style dress. It hugged her figure perfectly. Her hair was pulled back in a delicate bun showing off her angular face. She sat next to Melania and they appeared to be in deep conversation with one another.

Chelsea took in as much of Ivanka as she could before quickly looking away before Marc saw her.

“Do you want to dance?” he whispered into her ear over the music.

“I’m actually pretty tired,” she replied. It was the truth.

“Come on,” he pleaded, rubbing her hand. “Just one song. Please?”

There was nothing else better to do and so Chelsea gave in. Soon they were on the dance floor next to other couples scattered around dancing with each other. 

Marc put his hands on her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck, which always proved to be a bit strenuous as he was so much taller than she. They begin dancing slowly to the music. Marc held her tight against him, their bodies almost fused to each other. Chelsea closed her eyes and counted the steps to the song in her head, counted the subtle beats, counted the number of lines in each lyric. And then she felt Marc’s hand on her back rubbing it softly.

As they continued to sway to the song, their bodies naturally turned and she was soon facing where Ivanka was sitting near the rear of the room. This time Ivanka was staring at her. Their eyes connected with each other briefly. Before Chelsea realized they were holding each other's gaze, her body was being turned back around.

Marc’s hands had moved from her back to her lower back and soon to her butt. He began to give it a gentle rub and then a squeeze. Startled by this public display, Chelsea pulled back and looked at him. He gave her a sly smile and then kissed her on the mouth, sliding his tongue inside. It suddenly dawned on her why he wanted to come to this ball. He wanted to show her off to Ivanka. He wanted Ivanka to see them together and not just together but his hands on her. It was his way of saying, “This is mine, not yours.” Chelsea felt her stomach turn at the realization of this. She was his prize, his ego stroke. In that moment, she wasn’t a person, instead, she was the counterattack in his war against Ivanka.

The song ended and Chelsea pulled away from Marc.

“You don’t want to do one more song?” he asked.

“No, I said one. Remember?”

Marc didn’t put up a fight. Why would he? His goal had been accomplished. As they walked back to their seats, she glanced to where Ivanka was sitting but she was no longer there, her chair empty.

Chelsea was ready to go. She had enough of this party and Marc had jut pissed her off. She was about to demand that they leave when one of Marc’s investment banker friends, Ralph, walked over to where they were sitting. He gave a quick “hello” to Chelsea, and soon he and Marc was in a deep conversation about funding methods. Chelsea sighed as the conversation grew more animated by the minute. They weren’t leaving anytime soon. She pulled out her phone and saw a text from Ivanka.

“Come to the bathroom outside the ballroom,” the message from the blonde read.

Chelsea felt her heart skip a beat. “I can’t...I’m here with Marc.”

“I sent Ralph over to talk to him. He’s distracted. He won’t know if you’re gone for a few minutes…”

Chelsea glanced at Ralph and Marc still deep in their animated conversation. She smiled to herself thinking of how clever Ivanka was. She felt excitement take over her body. 

“Hey, honey, I'm heading to the bathroom.”

Marc smiled distractedly. “Sure”

Chelsea tried not to get to up from her seat too quickly but the way she was feeling, she could’ve run to the bathroom.

When she got there, she found Ivanka in the handicap stall waiting for her.

“What are you doing?” Chelsea asked, a wide grin on her face.

Ivanka smiled and then leaned in to kiss her. Deeply. “You know how reckless you make me,” she whispered.

Chelsea knew the statement was true. Ivanka was always ready to risk it all for her.

Here they were at an inaugural ball with both of their husbands and they had found a way to each other. The heightened stakes was an immediate turn on and Chelsea felt it between her legs.

“I’m glad,” Chelsea said kissing her back. “God, you look so beautiful.” And she did. The dress Ivanka wore was incredible, the way it hugged her body so perfectly.

She wasn’t sure how much time they had. Marc was distracted now but he would soon realize she had been gone for awhile. And then he would see Ivanka wasn’t in her chair and immediately put two and two together.

“I have to go,” Chelsea breathed. “He’s going to suspect something.”

“Don’t worry, baby," Ivanka said laying gentle kisses on her neck. "Ralph is going to talk his head off.” 

“What if he notices we’re gone?” Chelsea said throwing her neck back further to give Ivanka more kissing real estate.

“He won’t… he won’t…” Ivanka said against her skin. She sounded so assured and that made Chelsea assured.

She felt Ivanka's hands moving up and down her body through the dress she wore. She kissed her softly on the neck and then collarbone.

“Ivanka…” Chelsea breathed. It wasn’t in protest. She wasn’t going to protest this. She had forgotten all of her worries, all of her inhibitions, and now only felt desire.

“I’ve missed you…” Ivanka whispered into her mouth. “I want to feel every piece of you.”

“Me too,” Chelsea said trying to contain her breathing, pulling Ivanka in tighter.

“I don’t want to do it here,” Ivanka said pulling away slightly and looking Chelsea in her eyes. “Let’s go to a room.”

“Are you sure?” Chelsea asked, a flicker of light in her eyes.

“I've never been surer of anything.”

Chelsea felt arousal flood her center. If there had been any hesitation before, it was completely gone now. 

* * *

They walked casually out of the bathroom, heat humming throughout their bodies. Ivanka smiled to herself. This was fun. No one had any idea. She watched as Chelsea walked ahead of her, the blue dress she wore looking mesmerizing on her. 

Once she and Chelsea made it to the elevator, Chelsea turned to her and smiled. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

Ivanka inhaled, both thrown off and turned on by Chelsea's directness. It was usually she who was the one who came on strong but Chelsea had a knack for surprising her from time to time.

“Soon. Very, very soon,” she said as she gripped her clutch in anticipation.

Ivanka looked up at the elevator light watching it descend to where they were in the lobby. They rode to the top floor in silence. If either one of them said a word, there was no guaranteeing they would make it to the room with their clothes on.

The top floor was empty. Ivanka knew the camera’s in the hallway were still on but she would take care of that later. There would be no proof they were here.

She led them to a room she knew would be empty and opened it with a key fob. It was a suite.

Once the door closed, she felt Chelsea turn her around and kiss her, hot, messy but absolutely real.

“I want you on top of me. Now.” Chelsea whispered into her mouth, pressing her against the door.

Ivanka smiled. “I can do that.”

They pulled away and begin to take off their dresses carefully knowing they couldn't ruin them. “Fuck,” Ivanka muttered as she struggled with the tiny zipper on her side. Chelsea's dress, decidedly less complicatedly, was simple to take off. She watched with amusement as Ivanka tried to undo her own gown. After a few more seconds of watching, Chelsea walked over to her naked. Taking Ivanka’s hands in her own, she gently pulled the zipper down.

“Slow and steady,” Chelsea said with smirk.

“I can’t go slow or steady with you,” Ivanka said, stepping out her dress and into Chelsea’s embrace.

Soon her tongue was in Chelsea's mouth and Chelsea's hands were all over her breasts and then her back and then the rest of her body. They fell onto the bed still kissing and petting each other heavily.

Ivanka rolled Chelsea over, pinning her to the bed. She climbed on top of her and laid kisses from Chelsea's neck down to her stomach. Chelsea shuddered at the feeling of the tall blonde on top of her, her mouth on her, her hands soon enough in her.

Ivanka dragged her hands between Chelsea’s legs and felt her fingers full up with cum. “You’re so wet,” Ivanka whispered.

“Every bit of that is for you,” Chelsea said watching Ivanka’s mouth open a little at the copious amount of cum between her legs.

Ivanka bit her lower lip and thought of everything she wanted to do to Chelsea. She reached in for another searing kiss.

Ivanka slipped two fingers inside of Chelsea and heard her let out an audible gasp. She started moving her fingers in and out of Chelsea’s sex, fingering her slowly at first but then faster as Chelsea began to grind her hips against her.

“Yes,” Chelsea moaned as Ivanka used her thumb to massage her clit. “Just like that.”

Ivanka knew all of Chelsea’s spots, knew where she liked being kissed the most (her chest and stomach), what pushed her over the edge, what drove her crazy. Ivanka wanted to do everything.

Chelsea dug her fingers into Ivanka’s back and wrapped her legs around her, letting out loud moans each time Ivanka went in and out. 

“You feel so good,” Ivanka whispered into her neck. Chelsea tried to respond but was to overcome with pleasure to get a word out.

Ivanka thought to Marc feeling Chelsea up on the dance floor, how he was trying to make her jealous. He hadn’t succeeded because she knew at the end of the day, Chelsea’s heart and body was hers. Just knowing that made her work want to work harder and she gently pulled her fingers out of Chelsea, they now covered in warm cum.

“Mmm… Chelsea” Ivanka moaned as she put the two fingers in her mouth and sucked the cum off of them. Chelsea pulled her in for another kiss.

“I love when you moan my name,” Chelsea said.

“I love tasting you come in my mouth,” Ivanka replied and she started kissing down until she reached Chelsea's thighs. Spreading her legs wider, she put her mouth to Chelsea’s sex and begin to lick and suck. Chelsea arched her back high and let out a loud moan.

“Ohmygod,” she breathed.

Ivanka kept her tongue moving in and out, up and down, Chelsea. She felt her lover's hips tremble against her head. She could have spent the rest of the night between Chelsea's legs, but she knew she was near a climax. All it took was a soft flick of her tongue against Chelsea's clit to send her over the edge.

Chelsea let out a loud moan as her entire body shook with pleasure. Ivanka rose up and hugged her tight. They laid there for a few minutes, both silent as they came down from their high. 

“I really need to go,” Chelsea said eventually. “I know he’s looking for me.

“I should too,” Ivanka said. She looked at her watch. “It’s been 30 minutes.”

“We’ve always been efficient,” Chelsea smiled.

They quickly put their dresses back on, both grateful their hair hadn’t been destroyed by the tryst.

Ivanka flashed a smile as they entered back into the ballroom and they each took their seats, Ivanka’s up near the front of the room and Chelsea back beside Marc. He was still in deep conversation and hardly noticed when she sat down next to him.

“All I’m saying is that if the adjustment—” Mac was saying.

Chelsea gently rubbed his arm. “Hun, I think I’m ready to head out.”

He was immediately snapped from conversation. “Oh, I have been out of it for a while, huh? Ralph, it’s been so good catching up with you. You, Daveed and I need to have dinner sometime soon. I really want to continue this conversation.”

“Of course, of course,” Ralph gruffed. “Chelsea, a pleasure.”

She gave a thin smile as he got up to leave the table.

“This wasn’t so terrible, was it?” Marc asked as they got up to leave.

Chelsea tried not to laugh at the irony. “No, no, it wasn’t terrible at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This continues to be a really fun fic to write. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!


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